


Saint Cecilia

by Mrs_Dark_Knight



Series: Sunglasses and Tophats [2]
Category: Guns N' Roses, Hard Rock RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 68,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Dark_Knight/pseuds/Mrs_Dark_Knight
Summary: The boys are finally able to coax the full story of Axl's life out of him during the AFD tour, the results may prove to be more than they bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Present, Tour bus to Orlando**

“Well…?” Duff breathed, staring wide-eyed at the grinning redhead. “Don’t stop there, man!”

The others cheered in agreement, causing Axl to roll his eyes at the lot. “Why not? I told you, that’s it, that’s how we met.”

“Bullshit.” Steven grumbled, taking an angry sip of his drink. “We asked for the full story, not a summary.”

“They _did_ ask for it in full,” Izzy quietly added, enjoying the whole thing too much.

Axl scowled, _that was so like the fucker, getting off on watching him suffer_. “Fine, but as soon as it hits ten, you all are going off to your bunks—and no amount of bitching and whining will stop it.” The men all faintly agreed to his terms, so smiling, the redhead settled back into his story.

“Now… where was I?”

“You bumped into him,” The drummer added excitedly, “and then spent a good ten minutes checking him out.”

“I was six, I wasn’t _checking_ anything out!” he snapped, glaring at Izzy who was laughing softly.

“C’mon babe, you were _kinda_ checking me out.” He murmured, the redhead couldn’t stop the grin from taking over his face if he tried. Axl felt Slash tense beside him and his suggestive grin quickly disappeared; he discreetly laid a reassuring hand on the guitarist’s thigh.

 _Relax, this is nothing, I love you,_ he tried with all his might to convey this with just one gesture. Soon enough the brunette was relaxing, and Axl heaved a silent sigh of relief.

“Whatever, now... I bumped into the fucker, and was staring him down ‘cause he was so weird.” He glanced pointedly at the man in question, “And he makes a bold ass statement of some kind…" He tried to keep his voice light, to keep his tone flippant—tried his hardest not to let the others know how much those six words affected him, how much they meant to him. How at times, after Izzy had left, he laid awake with those six words floating around in his mind, how they had kept him from falling over the edge the countless times he wanted to. “What was it again? ‘We match, so now you’re mine’”

He tried, but even then, he felt the others’ loaded gazes on him—they _knew,_ but were kind enough to not make mention of it _._

\-----------------------

**Past, Church playground**

“ _We match, so now you’re mine_.”  The skinny kid said these words with such an air of superiority, Billy found himself just sitting there for a while, not mindful of his now-dirty khakis, or his dirty palms (mother would have a lot to say about that later).

“Excuse me?” Billy muttered as politely as he could muster, blinking up at the boy _, he can’t be much older than me, he looks younger anyway._

The brunette made no indication he had heard Billy’s words, instead he offered his hand, expression somber, little brows drawn together in a concerned frown. “Are you ok, Angel?”

 _Angel?_ Billy accepted his hand, a bit annoyed that his play was interrupted by this boy with strange eyes.  “My name is Billy, Bill Bailey—I ain’t no angel, Only Papa can see those.” He grumbled this even as he accepted the strange boy’s hand, he was surprisingly strong and in no time Billy was standing upright, facing those eyes full on while furtively trying to dust off his pants.

“Billy.” The boy said as if he were trying it out on his tongue, he looked across the field at the kids clustered where the adults were handing out treats; this was a break during the convention, and the children were finally free to eat and laugh to their hearts desire, it was the least they could be rewarded after sitting through a rather dull church service.  “Billy, I’m Jeffrey—I sure am glad I found you.”

 _What does that mean?_ Billy frowned,  blue-green eyes filled with confusion, Jeffery was staring straight back at him now, as if he couldn’t look away—Billy found that he really was beginning to like those eyes and desperately wanted to take a closer look. “You were looking for me—?” 

The boy smiled.

The boy smiled and Billy promptly forgot just what he was about to ask, he smiled and Billy forgot all about being mad about his pants, forgot the long service he would have to sit through later (and he couldn’t sleep like the other children, because Papa would be angry), forgot the scolding he would receive for wandering so far off from the others. The boy smiled, and Billy, only six at the time, knew then and there that he liked that smile. He liked it a lot.

“I like your… a—uhm ... au—” Jeffrey bit his lip and frowned, seemingly having trouble with a word. The redhead grinned as he watched the boy get more and more frustrated.

“Are you trying to say _aura_?” He interjected in a know-it-all tone. He was a bright boy, and he knew it, always heard his mother telling it to friends who asked how he was doing in school. Besides, he knew all about aura, Papa told him about God’s aura, about the aura of good people and that of bad people.

Jeffrey blushed, lashes fluttering. “You’re smart.” His voice was filled with awe, and Billy decided right then that he liked that too.

“I know.” He replied quietly, father told him not to be proud. That too much pride was no good for anyone. “Are you a part of our church?”

Jeffrey laughed, a sharp musical sound. If Billy hadn’t liked the sound so much, he would have been offended. “No, I’m not a part of your church—I ain’t no bible-thumper.” He said this the way one says something heard in grown-up conversation without fully understanding it. “I was just taking a short cut home, when you bumped into me.”

Billy felt his face heating rapidly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Angel? It was meant to happen.” He stated simply, playing with the sleeve of his over-sized jacket. “You’re _meant_ to be mine Billy.”

He wasn’t scared, more curious than anything else. “You’re weird. Who told you that? That I’m yours? I’m my mama’s and my papa’s—not yours. You can’t be much older than me.” _You’re too young to have me._

The brunette fixed him with an unreadable look, “Mama told me. That I’d find someone who matches with me, you know—our auras.” His speech slowed at the word, brows pulling together for a short while before he was smiling widely again. “And now, I found you. I gotta go Angel, but I’ll see ya again.” Lightning quick, the boy leaned over, pressed a clumsy kiss to Billy’s forehead and ran off.

Dazed and confused, the redhead stood there, a slight wind ruffling his already wild hair, watching the boy dart through the cluster of children and disappear into the bushes. “MY NAME IS BILLY!” He yelled, knowing his voice wouldn’t carry. “IT’S _NOT_ ANGEL!”

“Billy!” His mother was yelling for him, probably wondering why he was so far away from the others. “Billy! What in God’s name happened to your pants?” Sharon approached him, eyes wide, hand’s reaching for him. “Oh Shit,” She mumbled under her breath, auburn curls tumbling around her face. “Stephen’s gonna throw a fit, c’mon baby, stay with your little sister while I go fetch you some new pants…”

She went on talking, mumbling something about ‘little boys who couldn’t do as they were told’, but Billy’s eyes were fixed on the little patch of bushes a way off where the boy had disappeared into, half-expecting him to return, and half hoping he would.

He never did, and Billy was not to see Jeffrey for years to come.

\-----------------------

**Present**

“Satisfied?” Axl asked, shrugging when met with silence. “That’s it for real now—how we met.”

“Well…” Duff frowned, “Well what happened _next_?” The others murmured in agreement.

“I got a new pair of pants, went back to church and sat through another _pointless_ service.”

The bassist rolled his eyes, “No no, like—”

“—nope, it’s ten, you got your story.” The redhead wriggled out of Slash’s grasp feeling oddly uneasy after stirring up that memory.

“Am I the only one that thinks the kiss was adorable?” Steven commented, not looking the slightest bit sleepy.

“Stupidly adorable.” Slash agreed, laughing at Axl’s sharp glare. “Izzy, you never told me you were this romantic, at just six years old.”

Axl blinked rapidly, avoiding direct eye contact “Shut up!”

“You should hear about the popcorn ring in fifth grade.” The gypsy muttered, watching the redhead splutter. “I didn’t even _give_ him a chance to reject or accept. Just threw it at him and ran off.”

“It really stung you bastard!” Axl whined, pouting at the memory.

“But it paid off in the long run, huh?” Izzy asked softly, staring at Axl in that way that somehow pissed Slash off an incredible amount.

“Ok, fine. Bedtime.” The guitarist stated, heading to his bunk and dragging a almost-drunk Axl behind him. He had some business to attend to.

\---------------

Things were pretty tense the following morning. The boys had stopped at some diner a ways off from the hotel they would be staying in Orlando; the diner was deserted at this early hour, but they still had to sign a few autographs before finally settling in for breakfast.

The silence was deafening, Axl kept his head down and cut into his pancakes, not having the balls to look any of his band mates in the eye. Slash on the other hand was indifferent to the tension; he shoveled down his scrambles eggs with a healthy dosage of Jack, radiating smug amusement.

“Why is everyone so quiet?”

“Because we’re all reliving the sounds of Axl moaning last night.” Duff snapped, glaring up at Slash from under a mop of bed head.

Axl met Slash’s gaze for just a second and was attacked by the memories of last night. Slash _took_ him in his bunk, fucking him without the least bit of consideration for their “sleeping” band mates; he kept him on the edge for hours, somehow managing to _punish_ him with pleasure.

 

_“Say it—” He hissed, thrusting into the keening man steadily. “Say it.”_

_Axl whined, twisting his hips, trying desperately to stifle the sounds he was making and finish as quickly (and quietly) as possible. “Slash, please. You’re—I’m too loud.”_

_The brunette was unsympathetic, “Then keep quiet.”_

_Axl tried, he really did, but the drag of Slash’s cock against his prostate was more than he could handle. He was spilling an unending stream of profanity and moans, cheeks flaming because he knew that ever person on the bus could hear them—heard just how desperate he was for more. “Baby—”_

_“Say it, and you get to come.” He tightened his grip on Axl’s engorged length, pulling a broken moan from his throat._

_“I—I love you, only you—“he was barely making sense anymore, words all mixed up. “You, no one but you baby, not even—aah!”Thankfully, he was pulled over the edge before he could scream anything **more** embarrassing, but they heard anyway._

_Izzy had listened to the whole thing, grinning to himself in the dark._

 

 He glanced back at his food, ignoring how hot his cheeks burned.

“You owe us more of the story for that, ya know.” Steven finally spoke up, eyes dancing with mischief. “I don’t care how hot it is listening to you fuck, it’s not so hot when you’re trying to sleep.”

The redhead groaned, “I’m sorry man, it’s not—”

“I don’t care.” Steven repeated calmly, nudging the bassist for support “Yeah, Yeah, you owe us.”

“And we wanna be paid with _more_ of that story of yours.” Duff finished, beaming over at Axl. _Christ, there was no way they were serious._

They all looked very, _very_ serious.

“It’s Izzy’s turn anyway; I’m not even sure where I stopped.” He pointed out, jabbing his fork in the brunette’s direction. “Aren’t you tired? You should get some rest before we arrive at the hotel.”

“Well, consider it a fucking bedtime story,” Duff said drily before dissolving into a laughing fit with Steve. The redhead couldn’t help smile at the two idiots.

“Ok, but again, no interruptions.” He owed them that much. Sighing, he settled back against Slash, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Ok… we didn’t even see each other much after that, I had no idea where the fucker went for a couple of years—”

“—Nevada.” Izzy added quietly, Axl nodded. He’d have to find out more about that later.

“—Nevada, right. Anyway, I never saw him again, not till when he threw a fucking ring at me— _cheapskate_!—and ran off like a pussy.” The men erupted into laughter, nudging a giggling Izzy who had bitched about how expensive the cost of a tour bus was, _why couldn’t they just toss their shit into the back of Duff’s old van and drive there themselves_? “And honestly, I can’t tell you how exactly we became friends, but I guess somehow we did…”

\----------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Billy didn’t see Jeffrey again until the fifth grade when the teacher introduced a “new” kid to class.

“Class, this is Jeffrey Dean Isbell who just moved here from Nevada.” Mrs. Hewlett said, voice about as warm and friendly as the icy plains of Siberia.

Billy wanted to point out that he wasn’t new, at least not new to him, but he doubted his teacher would appreciate any interruptions. Jeffrey’s eyes snapped to his as if magnetized, and Billy was caught in that strange gaze, just as intense as it had been four years ago, but even more intense now that he could understand some of the emotions in it.

Jeffrey looked at him the way Auntie Polly’s _boyfriend_ looked at her, like he was something precious.

It made him feel _weird_.

But not bad, or afraid, just weird—for lack of a better word to call it.

“I hope you’ll welcome Jeffrey, show him around and most of all—be kind.” She reminded them; the class offered her a mixed response, voices faint and distant. The brunette’s eyes hadn’t left Billy’s baby blues, he strolled all the way to the back of the class, ignoring all the empty seats he passed and plopped down in the one behind Billy.

For a second, he wondered if Jeffrey remembered him, if he had any recollection of that day long ago on the church playground. He wasn’t sure if he hoped he did.

All his doubts were abated when the boy tapped his shoulder and whispered “Hey, Angel.” Billy’s breath caught, and he sat through the remainder of the class with a thumping heart—he felt oddly pleased that he was remembered, even if the weirdo _still_ got his name wrong.

And so they became friends, sitting together in almost every class, eating together at lunch. Billy never did have much friends, he was never really popular at all. He was too quiet, even though he was smart—and even though he was polite, the adults always hurried away from him because he was a bit _too_ polite, he talked as if he was afraid at any moment they would lash out and hurt him—none of them bothered to look twice into that, besides, he was the Reverend’s kid, how could he _possibly_ be having problems at home? Why, the home of a Christian family was probably the _best_ place to raise a kid.

He was just the pastor’s son, the one who always hung around with that skinny little brunette that nobody understood, and that title followed him all the way up to high school when things started to go awry in _every_ sense of the word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Present, Tour Bus**

During the tale the boys managed to drift back out to the bus, laughing and poking fun at Axl’s experiences.

“So, that’s it? You’re gonna skip all the way to high school for no reason?”

“What can I say? Nothing else happened during fifth grade.” Axl muttered, lying through his teeth. “The sooner I get this over with, the sooner you all will shut up and gimmie a break.”

“Liar.” Izzy stated calmly, “we had all kinds of fun in fifth grade. Are we gonna leave out the proposal?” The redhead cursed himself for not having remembered that Izzy would call his ass out for the thrill of watching him suffer.

“Proposal?” Slash asked clearly interested in this new information. “What proposal?”

“Nothing—”

“We got married in my basement.” Izzy grinned at Axl’s scowl, “Had a tiny reception and everything.”

“Awww...” Steven blue eyes flickered from Izzy to Axl, palm pressed to his chest, genuinely impressed. “Aww fuck, that’s so sweet man.”

“Yeah, what can I say? I’m sweet.” The brunette wiggled his brows, “Right, Axl? You’d know something about that.” He grinned when the man starts to blush an alarming shade of red, remembering a certain incident where he had stated in an awe-filled voice after their first kiss at age 12 that Izzy tasted _sweet_.

“Oh my fucking God, I was _twelve_ Izzy.” Axl whined, dragging his hand over his flaming face.

“So are you revoking your statement?” He asked, voice light but eyes challenging. ‘ _Go ahead, try to deny me’_ they seemed to say. Axl sighed and looked away, chewing on his lip.

“No.”

“What statement?” Steven asked, head tilted in curiosity. “Come on, we won’t tell.”

The redhead narrowed his eyes at Izzy, “don’t you dare.”

“Fine.” _Not yet._ “Anyway, we got close during fifth grade, he always hung out at my house—and I’d sometimes go to his for a while. So it’s a regular day, right? I’m walking him home like always—”

“Awww...” this time it was from Duff who was cuddling Steven and staring over at Izzy adoringly. “Every day?”

“Every day, the fucker hated being alone.” Axl grumbled under his breath and shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t deny it. “I’m walking him home, and I suggest he come home with me, just for a while at least...”

\---------------------

**Past, Indiana**

They walked together in comfortable silence, the rustling of the trees and the echo of their sneakers on the pavement the only sounds. He didn’t mind it at all, Billy was normally quiet and Jeffrey could live with that—being a bit reserved himself.

He glanced over at his angel, whose medium-length red hair was whipping around his pale face as he walked, small hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack, frowning at nothing in particular. Jeffrey wasn’t a pro at reading auras yet, but he could tell that the redhead was dreading going home after school; he withdrew even further within himself with each step. As they turned unto Billy’s street, the redhead’s pace slowed significantly, brows pulling even closer together, small mouth turned down at the corners.

Jeff didn’t like his angel being sad.

“Hey, wanna come to my house today?” Jeff asked, voice sounding too loud in the prior silence.

Billy’s stride falters for a bit, and he turns his head to face Jeff, eyes filled with confusion. “What?”

“Come over today, I got new records.” Jeffrey watched Billy’s face light up then crumple.

“I can’t,” he grumbled, looking down at his feet. “I’ve got church.”

“Church on a Thursday?” Jeff asked, brows almost reaching his hairline.

Billy stopped walking abruptly; whirling around to glare at him, temper spiking dangerously “Are you deaf? That’s what I said, I can’t ok!” He spun on his heels and stomped off leaving a perplexed Jeff in his wake.

It was always like this, a completely normal conversation could turn into an argument at any minute. Billy’s radiant golden aura could just as quickly morph into a wild, aggressive and threatening red.

He didn’t understand it yet; he just knew he should tread lightly.

“Hey Billy! Wait up!” He struggled to catch up with the boy, the weight of his bag slowing him down, that and the fact that Billy was really good at running (something he also never looked into at the time). “C’mon William.” He panted, getting really tired of running now.

Billy slowed at Mrs. Robinson’s house, just next door to his own. “What?”

“Cut it out man. Just come on, for a bit.” He whined and pleaded till the boy gave in, running up to his porch and dropping his bag and books before coming back to meet Jeff.

“Fine, but only for a bit, I have to be back by five.” He fidgeted even as he said this, shooting a nervous glance back over his shoulder—the porch remained empty. “They’d better be good songs, punk, or else.”

And that’s how they ended up at Jeff’s house, his mother was surprised he brought someone home but did her best to mask it. They walked in while she was placing a batch of cookies into the oven.

“Ahh, Jeff, you’re home.” She exclaimed, flashing a smile in his direction. “Thank goodness, how do you feel about pizza tonight?” Aishe froze when she noticed a pair of blue-ish eyes peering at her, “Hello there.”

Jeff watched as Billy blinked at his mother, probably confused by her accent. “Hello Maam.”

“You are a friend of Jeff, no?” She asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “He has never brought anyone home before, what’s your name?”

“Billy, I mean... William,” he looked down at his dirty sneakers. “But they call me Bill.”

Aishe laughed, a pretty little sound, already charmed by the boy. “Ok Billy, nice to meet you. I’m Aishe, Izzy’s mom.” She had dark hair like Jeff’s and her eyes were a perfect match to his. She always wore a lot of charms, the tinkled with her every movement, creating her own kind of music. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and everyone she met loved her for it. Billy was no different it seemed

“Mother!” Jeff cried, now it was his turn to look down at his feet. “Don’t call me that _please_.”

“Oh why not?” She teased, placing her hands on her hips. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“Izzy is a girl’s name.” He glanced quickly at Billy as he said this, regretting bringing him here. His mother raised a brow at that, mouth forming a knowing little ‘o’.

Aishe grinned cheekily “So what? You’re _twice_ as pretty as any girl I know.”

They were both startled by Billy’s laugh, a beautifully pure sound that echoed in the small kitchen. They stared at him in awe, when he noticed he threw a hand over his mouth and mumbled an apology.

“Never apologize for that, baby.” She said, frowning thoughtfully, “laughter is good.”

Billy nodded, smiling a bit. “Okay.”

“We came to listen records, can we use the basement?”

“Uh huh, clean up after and sure.” She turned away from them, returning her attention to her cookies. “You can have some cookies soon. Grab a snack in the mean time.”

Jeff nodded and led Billy down to the basement, a simple, cozy room that housed his mother’s collections. Her books, music, movies, charms everything. Billy spaced out for a while, eyeing the collection of books that took up almost one entire wall. He frowned at the books written in Romani, a bit curious of their meaning.

“Wow.”

“Yeah...” Jeff replied, putting on Led Zeppelin II, smirking when Billy’s eyes snapped over to him when the filthy riff of ‘ _Whole Lotta Love’_ started up. Jeffrey grinned as he watched those eyes widen in awe, that small mouth hanging open. By the time Robert plant started singing, Billy was breathing hard, heart racing in his chest. “Wanna sit and listen?” Jeffrey patted the spot on the worn couch next to him, the redhead swallowed and stumbled over, sitting so they were pressed together.

“What is it, Izzy?” He asked, filled with reverence, staring at the spinning record as if it held all the answers.

Jeff felt his own heart race when Billy called him that, he couldn’t bring himself to correct him. “It’s Led Zep man.” He handed him the record sleeve and the redhead fingered it adoringly, mouth still hanging open. Jeff watched his every movement, how his lashes fluttered, his breathing patterns, his flushed cheeks—everything. He felt hot, like he was burning up inside, the screaming guitar and Plant’s vocals weren’t helping either. He watched Billy fall in love and fell in love himself. _Izzy would always remember this as the moment he truly fell ass over heels for the boy—and it stayed with him always._

Somehow, enough time passed for them to reach _‘The Lemon Song’_ and neither of them truly got it at the time but Billy was enjoying it all anyway. He must have noticed the silence because he glanced over at Jeff with a perplexed little smile on his face.

“What?”

“Marry me?” He blurted, confusing both himself and Billy.

To his surprise, Billy laughed, leaning back on the couch. “Don’t you need a ring?”

Jeff was nodding to himself; he sprung up off the couch yelling something about him being right back and ran up the short flight of stairs. In the kitchen, he riffled through the cupboard till he came across what he was looking for.

“What in the world—” Aishe watched, bewildered, as Jeff dumped the contents of the snack into the bin in a mad search for the ring inside. When he got hold of it, he whooped, holding it up to the light. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d have to do till he could afford something fitting for his Angel.

Aishe watched her son run back to the basement and sighed, picking her book up again.

“Billy,” Jeff panted, finally satisfied. “Will you marry me?” He held up the popcorn ring, smiling like he just won the jackpot.

Billy froze, eyeing Jeff like he was a total madman. “Are you serious, Izzy? Blue isn’t even my color.” He pointed out, eyes dancing with mischief in a way Jeff had never seen before. He was tapping his toes in time to ‘ _Ramble On_ ’, a little smile lurking at his lips.

Jeff _loved_ him.

He loved him like this, when he was here with him.

When he wasn’t looking over his shoulder in constant fear.

When he wasn’t mumbling and glancing at his feet.

He loved him when he was one with the music, head bobbing, shoulders moving and eyes smiling.

“It’s just until I can get you something better, something _golden_ —like your aura.” _Like your hair, like your eyes at a certain angle, like your skin in the sun, like you._

Billy finally realized he wasn’t playing, Jeff felt crushed when he shook his head. “Izzy, Izzy why? Why would you wanna marry me?”

“Because I love you.” He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But _why_?” He sat up properly now, eyes fixed on Jeff’s face.

“Because, you’re _mine_ to love.” Jeff was becoming annoyed _. Why can’t he see? Why won’t he understand?_

The redhead looked away for a while, thinking hard. “You promise?” His voice was small and timid, eyes downcast. “Forever?”

His heart was thumping again, blood rushing through him “Yeah, always.”

“Well, get over here then, punk.” He laughed when Jeff rushed to him, ring held out like an offering. “Just make sure... make sure.”

His mother chose this exact moment to walk in with cookies and milk, blinking at the sight of Jeff on his knees and Billy inspecting the ring. “Oh...” she smiled nervously, “am I interrupting?”

“Its fine, we already got married.” Jeff relayed this information casually while Billy choked on air behind him. “We’re a bit hungry now though.”

“Oh my.” Aishe laughed weakly, mind going a mile a minute (It took her a few years to reveal to Izzy exactly _why_ she was so nervous about them). “Well lucky for you, the cookies are ready.”

“Thanks Maam.” Billy mumbled, face hot. Aishe left as quickly as she entered, not pausing to look behind her.

 The boys sat there, eating cookies and replaying the album for what seemed like ages. Billy got bolder and bolder after each song till he was dancing around the room to ‘ _Ramble On’,_ twirling and waving his arms wildly.

Jeff laughed harder than he ever had, apparently married life agreed with him better than it did with his parents. “Hey you clutz, don’t you have to be home soon?”

Billy snapped out of his spell, staring in horror at the clock on the wall. “Fuck!” That was the first time Billy ever heard him curse, he really liked the way he said it, how he stressed the ‘f’, pulled his lower lip into his mouth and released it shiny and wet.

“Well, you’re only a little late. I’ll walk you home—” But Angel was running away, up the stairs and out the basement. The brunette chased him after a brief pause, managing to wrap a hand around his slender wrist (of his left hand, the one with the makeshift wedding band), the redhead writhed in his grasp. “Billy! Wait, what’s wrong?”

“I gotta go, Izz.” He cried, “I’m late!”

“Will you get in trouble?” He asked, still clinging to him. “It’s not that late, I’ll walk you back.”

 Billy recoiled, face pale. “Will I get in _trouble_? Whaddya fuckin’ think man?” With a final yank he was able to pull away; he stumbled down the porch steps and ran off without a backward glance.

“Angel!” He cried, but he was long gone. Jeff stood there for a long while; the faint strains of rock could be heard from the basement. He stood there till his mother came for him, resting a hand on his shoulder, her presence alone managing to comfort him a little.

“Come in, little Gypsy.” She whispered, “It’s time for dinner, he’ll be back.” He obeyed reluctantly, thoughtfully silent through dinner.

Axl was absent from school the following day.

\--------------------------

**Present, Orlando.**

The boys were silent, there were no jokes or jeers—just silence.

“Wow...” Slash finally spoke up, voice faint and shaky. “Just...” he held Axl tighter to him, stroking his silky hair.

“I can’t believe you got married at _eleven_ ,” Duff joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I sleeping with a married man? Am I your harlot?”

Izzy laughed, “You’re worth more to me than that, babe.” They were arriving at the hotel in a few minutes and they all started to prepare themselves for it. The fans knew they would be there and they did not disappoint, they showed up in their numbers, cheering and screaming at the first sight of the boys.

Axl was as good with them as always, he smiled—genuinely appreciative of ever person there, who all helped him achieve what he wanted. He did his best to sign as much as he could, interacting with them as best as possible before their manager pulled him away and ordered him to bed.

They split up as usual, Izzy got the blondes and he got his brunette. While the others headed to bed, he paused in the hallway for a brief conversation with Izzy.

“You fell in love with me falling in love with Led. Z?” He teased, “ _Inception_?”

“I guess that’s what it is, huh?” He exhaled a lungful of smoke into Axl’s face with a grin. “What? You touched or something?”

“Fuck you, asshole, get some rest.” Before he could turn away however, Izzy grabbed his wrist—much like he did those years ago.

“What happened that day, when you got home?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Axl sighed, “What do you think? Sitting through church with bruises is no fun.”

Izzy growled deep in his throat, as if he could go back in time and rip the reverend a new one. “Okay... Okay.”

“I’m fine now, it’s okay. _I’m_ okay.”

“ _Are_ you okay though?” He tilted his head, eyes roving over Axl’s body. “Mr. Tall dark and handsome keeping you satisfied?”

The redhead’s breath caught, he couldn’t fight the arousal flowing through him. He learned he couldn’t fight anything relating to Izzy the hard way. “Yeah, yeah he is.”

“I heard him fucking you last night.” He whispered, lips brushing Axl’s ear. “You still scream all pretty, like you’re singing.”

“Izzy...” He was ashamed that came out as more of a moan than anything else. He swallowed hard; he needed to get out of here.

Izzy shivered at the sound of his name. “Can he make you _sing_ like I can?”

“You fucker!” He hissed, laughing breathlessly and pushing Izzy back. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t ya?”

The brunette laughed, voice echoing in the hall. “I got reason to be.”

 _Yeah, you do._ “Whatever. Goodnight.”

“Later, Angel.” He made no move to leave, instead he leas there against the wall, on leg crossed over the other, radiating smug amusement.

Axl could feel those strange eyes on him all the way to his room. _Damn him to hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Led. Z is perfect for falling in love, don't you think?


	3. Chapter 3

Izzy was staring, Axl could sense it.

They were halfway into their sound check at the stadium, more or less prancing around the stage in nothing but their boxers, gallivanting and giving their manager a headache.

Izzy’s mind wasn’t there, every time Axl looked over, his eyes were on Slash.

“What the fuck?” The redhead grumbled, coming up short when he tried to uncover just what he was so mad about. _Am I mad because he’s not looking at me? Or am I mad he’s looking at what’s mine?_

If any of the others noticed, they didn’t point it out.

Axl rolled his eyes and got back to work, mind going a mile a minute all the while.

It all came to a head in the dressing rooms when they were changing back to normal clothes; Izzy barged in shouting something about heading out to a bar, unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, Slash had stripped down to his boxers and was wandering around looking for his damned pants that had seemed to disappear.

“Are ya up for some bar hopping—” He trailed off abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the guitarist, cigarette dangling from his lips. “ _Fuck_.” He groaned in appreciation

Axl bristled, hopping to his feet to glare at the brunette, “What the fuck do _you_ want?”

Izzy of course ignored him, eyes trailing down to Slash’s ass—the guitarist was clueless, bent over the pile of clothes on the floor. “Well fuck, you didn’t tell me Mr. Rockstar had such a great ass.”

Slash straightened up—finally finding the damned thing—and turned to peer quizzically at Izzy. “Oh hey gyp, whaddya need?”

Him being this clueless only served to piss Axl off more “Izzy, get _out.”_

“Wanna come out tonight?” He asked, ignoring Axl once again. He grinned lewdly as he watched Slash wiggle into his skin tight jeans, fumbling with the zipper, having quite a bit of trouble pulling it closed over all _that_.

Axl was almost certain he was gonna either pass out, or maul Izzy.

“Oh?” Slash mumbled, voice muffled in the fabric of the shirt he was trying to pull over his head. Izzy’s eyes tracked his every movement, trailed all the way to his abs, smirk still firmly in place. “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

 Axl’s hand closed around his bicep, stilling him “No, no he does _not_ wanna go out tonight.” He knew he sounded like the jealous girlfriend, but fuck it. He knew Izzy better than anyone else, and Izzy had always about “free love”, even though he proceeded to throw a bitch fit if Axl had tried anything of the sort without his approval.

“I don’t?” The guitarist glanced between Izzy and Axl (who were currently having a stare-off) in confusion.

“No, you don’t.”

“I think he does…” Izzy purred, taking a long drag on his cigarette, still leaning casually against the wall looking like someone’s wet dream.

_Probably mine… probably everyone’s._

“Uhmm… I guess not?” Axl shot him an approving look, so Slash shrugged and went with it. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Izzy faltered for a while, before beaming at the couple. “I guess we’ll just bring the party to you then.” Without another word, he walked out, leaving two puzzled men in his wake.

“Uhm... care to explain what that was about?”

The redhead sighed, tipping a bit to place a quick kiss on Slash’s lips “Stay away from him.”

“I could say the same to you.” He replied, smiling a bit against Axl’s lips when the redhead snorted.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” And then they’re kissing again, passionately, pausing to breathe only when necessary.

“Hmm…I love you, you egg.”

“I love you too, Gingersnap.” The brunette laughed, “Oh that reminds me. James is coming to visit sometime next week; he’s on vacay in Miami.”

“It’s been a while, huh?” Axl mused, tracing Slash’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Yeah, and he’s got a surprise for you.”

“Fish n’ chips?” He teased cheekily, dodging the swat aimed at his head.

“No, I think you’ll like this surprise better.” Slash grinned, “Come on, let’s get back. You’ve been making concentrating very hard in those fucking shorts.”

\-----------------------

Izzy’s guarded little statement about bringing the party to them made a whole lot more sense when their foreplay was rudely interrupted by someone pounding on the door.

“Seriously?” Axl asked, breathlessly, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling. “They are not fucking serious.”

“Yoohooo!” Steven called, obviously drunk off his ass. “We’ve got liquor!”

Slash pulled his mouth off Axl’s cock with a slick pop, the redhead mewled in frustration. “Ignore them, don’t stop.”

The brunette flicks his tongue at the head, chuckling a bit. “I can’t, they’re distracting.” Sure enough the sounds of pounding and shrieking came from outside.

_Cockblocked by my own band-mates, wonderful_. Axl almost sobbed when Slash pulled away _completely_ , shuffling off to look for clothes. “Get dressed, they’re _your_ friends.”

“I don’t need _friends_ ; I _need_ to get my dick sucked.” He whined, surprising a laugh out of Slash, and _fuck_ , how did he even get dressed so fast?

Axl managed to roll out of bed, bitching every step of the way, and drag on an ankle-long robe, heart screaming bloody murder of those three idiots. Apparently Slash opened the door, because Steven tumbled in first, yelling “story time” at the top of his lungs.

Slash looked too amused for Axl’s liking, standing there next to a smug looking Izzy shaking his head in amusement. “Hey, the kids wanted a bedtime story.”

The curly-haired man tried his best not to laugh at that, he really did. But when Duff also made his delayed entrance, bouncing hyperactively about and yelling ‘Story!’ he lost it.

Axl’s frown wavered, “You fucking— why are you even…” He broke off with a sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fuck, ok, story time.”

“Yaaaay!” Steven cheered, tripping over Duff who was lying face down on the carpet for some reason, in an attempt to climb unto the bed. He missed it by a few centimeters.

After several unsuccessful attempts, they all managed to pile unto the bed, staring up at Axl excitedly.

“Where was I?”

“You got married.” Slash reminded him from where he was sprawled over Duff. “And ran away.” He whispered this last bit every loudly, causing Axl to roll his eyes.

Izzy was just staring at him in that infuriating way of his. Axl sighed, and looked away. “Yeah, whatever. We all know what happened after that, I don’t remember much of fifth grade after, you know how you remember important moments, but not whole days?”

“Uh huh,” Steven chirped, wriggling till he was lying across Axl’s lap.

The redhead smiled a little, biting the inside of his lip. “Uh huh, well, I hung out with him almost every day—it was ok with my parents, they didn’t really know who he was, except a ‘new’ kid in town, so it was fine so long as I got home in time for evening service…”

\------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Seventh grade was an interesting time for Billy. For one thing, he was way ahead of the class, the work was almost boring him half to death. Izzy wasn’t all that great at it, but Billy didn’t mind helping him out whenever he needed, somehow helping him to keep a solid B average in almost every class (which was a fucking lot for Izzy, since school really wasn’t his thing). Billy burned through home work, research papers, whatever was given and he was always on top of his class. That left him with free time.

Freedom was something he wasn’t used to, and he tried to take full advantage of it.

He now had a lot more time to listen music, Aishe’s music collection in the basement became one of his favorite things, he sat there for hours, going through every album multiple times. Identifying the sounds he liked and the bands he thought were not that great—he really didn’t see what was the big deal about the eagles—but Queen? They were something else. He took an instant liking, sitting for hours just getting lost in the music.

Aishe somehow realized the whole “getting home by five thing” was a priority, and sometimes would have to resort to gently nudging him a few minutes before and reminding him of the time.

He was thankful for that, he really was. So he took careful pains not to mention he’d probably get punished for something trivial, whether he got home on time or not. Carefully wore only long sleeves around them, very nearly flinched when she tapped him on his injured shoulder one day—but managed to hold it in last minute.

It wasn’t their burden to bear, it was his.

The Reverend always said God never gave a man more than he could bear. Clearly that meant he could bear this, if only for a while, until he got to heaven. (He sometimes found himself questioning how much he _really_ wanted to go to heaven—if the Reverend and others like him were going to be there, it didn’t seem all that alluring.)

He still wore the popcorn ring, even though the colour had long washed off it. He sat there one cool fall evening, lounging on the floor of their basement (because it was more or less their territory now), singing along to ‘We are the Champions’, feeling as free as could be. He stared at the ring, twisted it on his finger, the sermon from the past Sunday ringing in his mind.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

He would eventually drown in his sins and shortcomings.

“I wanna hear you sing like that all the time.” Izzy (as he had taken to calling him) commented, sipping cherry cola and observing Billy closely. “You sing nice.”

Billy felt his cheeks burn at the compliment, as they so often did (and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he reacted to Izzy that way). “What?”

“You sing nice, we should start a band.” The brunette’s eyes never left his face, his voice steady and confident. “Once we get through with school, I’m taking you outta here. We can make a band, and go make it big in the city.”

That promise made Billy’s heart soar, leaving? Freedom? He had never once thought of it, he had resigned himself to finishing high school then taking over the farm and staying there till his parents died. Maybe he’s die there himself.

But leaving? To sing? And not in the choir?

The redhead shivered, heart beating wildly. “What do you mean _leave_?”

Izzy scoffed, “We’re gonna be through with school in like five years, man. Just pack your shit, we can leave together, we’ll still be married—if you want.”

“You think I sound—you think _I’m_ good?” Billy’s voice was barely above a whisper, his blue eyes fixed on the floor, still twisting the ring around his finger.

“You sound _beautiful._ ” Izzy breathed sincerely, as sincerely as a twelve year old could anyway. He shifted to sit on the floor next to the redhead, skinny shoulders brushing, hearts thumping. “You’re beautiful.”

Billy stopped breathing.

He was legitimately convinced for a second that he would die right there, he couldn’t get air in, his face was hot, and he was so embarrassed he started to tear up. When he spoke, his voice came out as a squeak. “Izzy, Izzy you _can’t_ love me. I can’t marry you.”

“Why the fuck not?” The brunette’s grey eyes darkened, lips poised in a pout. “Who said that?”

“The bible.” He replied, hands trembling, not meeting Izzy’s eyes. He could barely hear the Queen record above the sound of his own heart. “I can’t be married to you anymore Izzy, Pa preached that it was—” his voice cracked, embarrassing him further, “—he said I’ll be damned if I do, in church on Sunday.” He pulled the little ring halfway off, not having the heart to remove it completely or stare into those smoky eyes he liked so much.

_I’m not supposed to fucking like him like this._

_I’m not._

Boys in his class already had girlfriends; they held hands at lunch and walked each other home.

  _Izzy walks me home._

But that wasn’t right; he wasn’t supposed to love Izzy, not like _this_. The vivid picture of hell Stephen painted for his children, wife and congregation at almost every chance he got was enough to give Billy nightmares.

“Bullshit.” Izzy hissed, with way too much venom for one so young. “Your dad is full of shit!” Billy flinched, Izzy was well aware of his religious background and usually tried his best not to swear much around him. The redhead reluctantly dragged his eyes to meet Izzy’s and instantly tensed at what he saw there.

The brunette was furious. Eyes almost silvery, lips pressed in a flat line. “If you don’t love me, you can just say.”

“Izzy—”

“There is no God, _Angel_. Not like the one you think anyway, your father is full of _bullshit_!”

 Billy gasped, eyes stinging, “Izzy, I _do_ love you but—” They were yelling loud enough for Aishe to hear them now, filled with rage and frustration.

“But? But what?”

“But the _bible_ says…” But he didn’t finish, because Izzy’s lips was on his, clumsy but determined to make a point. Billy didn’t plan to kiss back. Heck he wasn’t even sure _how_ to, he’d never been kissed before.

He felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside, like he’d spontaneously combust ( _he learnt that word in one of Aishe’s books_ )—he wondered briefly if this was what hell felt like, if this was what it tasted like.

Izzy tasted like cherry soda.

Izzy tasted _sweet._ He mumbled as much against Izzy’s lips, sighing happily.

He felt strung tight, like he wanted to do _something_ , like he was being consumed by something he couldn’t explain. But he was never good at facing anything head on, at least not back then.

He pushed Izzy away.

He pushed Izzy away with tears in his eyes; tripped over his own feet while standing up and ran away without another word (he was best at that.)

He pushed past Aishe, who at some point came to see what all the noise was about, and dashed out the door and not looking back even once.

He ran straight home, past Sharon, past little Amy and Stu who always wanted to play, ran right up the rickety stares into his small room and slammed the door shut (of course it wouldn’t lock, the revered didn’t _allow_ his children to be able to lock their doors).

Breathing heavily, he curled up on the bed, pants awkwardly tight, cheeks burning bright. He knew all about sex, Stephen had given him the talk as soon as he brushed ten years old, knew all about arousal and what happens when little boys get turned on. Maybe the Reverend’s version was just a _little_ twisted.

“The devil tempted you with arousal, used it to lure you into the fiery pits of hell. Masturbation was against God, acknowledging desire was against God, sex before marriage was against God, even the thought of it—and for all these things, you will be damned.”

Billy felt sure of it, if there was a devil, it was Izzy.

 He had tempted him, had led him from the righteous path, and had showed him the fires of hell with a forbidden kiss, the fires that seemed to burn beneath his skin, course through his veins, beg him to touch himself — to chase that which is strictly forbidden.

In those fires he was nearly consumed, and he had _liked_ it.

\------------------

**Present, Hotel Orlando**

By the time Axl broke off, pulled from the past to the present by a gentle touch on his thigh from where the drummer had brushed against him—Duff and Steven were asleep. Sprawled haphazardly across the bed and curled around each other. Slash was staring at him, eyes filled with unreadable emotion; Izzy was next to the guitarist, slender fingers disappearing into his curls every now and then, eyes never leaving Axl’s face.

Axl noticed Izzy jolt as if he’d been hit by lightening, he then pulls his hand from Slash’s hair, folding them on his lap and frowned.

Having known the brunette for that long, Axl knew he had remembered something important and he waited patiently for the man to share it.

After a while, he realised they might not work like they did back then and attempted to move on.

The redhead cleared his throat, “We can’t move them, so I guess we’ll have to sleep here.” The bed was big enough anyway, and he didn’t mind sharing. He had slept on worse before.

The brunette nodded and crawled over to Axl, he gently pulled him to his chest wordlessly, turning his back to Izzy and the others. The heavy thumping of his heart was loud in the quiet room.

“Slash…?” He hated the sound of his own voice, or being so vulnerable.

“Shhh baby, it’s ok.”

He drifted off to sleep shortly after, feeling small and terrified all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ship it.  
> What exactly? I ship everything :) *laughs in homewrecker*


	4. Chapter 4

Izzy didn’t stay.

He crept out as soon as he was sure the other two had drifted off. He stood now in his own room, out on the balcony, staring out at the city.

He realized exactly what his mother had been so afraid of, though he could not _truly_ understand it back then.  It weighed on his mind, tormented his every thought.

She was right.

She was rarely ever wrong.

He was selfish _and_ foolish.

He had watched Axl storm out, confused and enraged, almost trying to _will_ him to stay. Watched him brush past a shaken looking Aishe without stopping to apologize like he usually would.

_“Izzy…” She moaned, wringing her hands. “Izzy, what have you done, my boy?”_

_“He won’t **stay**. He doesn’t fucking love me.” He stated calmly, voice barely wavering, heart screaming in his chest. Was this what heartbreak felt like?_

_He wanted the Reverend’s head on a pike; his own violent anger scared even him a little._

_Aishe approached him hesitantly, muttering soothing words in Romani under her breath, grey eyes still avoiding his._

_“Oh Izzy, you don’t understa—”_

_“I’ll **take** him from them if I have to.” He said quietly, tone at screaming odds with his body language and words. “He’s mine, and that stupid reverend—” He could feel the rage radiating off him, almost seeping out of his skin and thickening the air. He was barely aware of Aishe’s presence; his mind was whirling with plots to get what was his._

_And that was the difference between Axl’s and Izzy’s temper, Axl could switch from sweet and loving to aggressive in the flick of a switch. Izzy’s anger was slow and methodical, he rarely got angry, but when he did—he became downright deadly, possessive and **cruel**._

**_“Izzy!_ ** _” She cried, eyes wide with fear. He glanced up at her for the first time and she rocked back on her heels, looking damn near ready to flee—staying only because it was her maternal duty. She clutched his small shoulders; he was trembling beneath her hands. “You don’t understand, things like these won’t come easily to him. He loves you, but accepting that love is shaking the very foundation on which he was built. They’re Christians, his father is a pastor, and it’s what he’s been taught—”_

_“He is **mine** though, you’ve seen it.” That was undeniable._

_“Yes,” she sounded almost wistful. “Yes he is, but you have to give him time. He’s terrified. You have to allow him to come to you.”_

_Izzy considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Fine… fine, but they had better not hurt him or—”_

_“I know baby.” She carefully didn’t point out that they were already hurting him. Aishe smoothed his hair over with a trembling hand. “He’s not like us, just remember.”_

_She managed to calm him after a while, and his demeanor wasn’t as icy as before. Before leaving, she glanced at him and shook her head in awe. “Just like your father. You’ll love endlessly, violently, it’s almost terrifying but that boy is different, made of a finer sort of material. And I’m worried your love will force him to shatter.”_

_Aishe had seen it, in the boy’s mannerisms, in his sad eyes—had seen all the pain he covered up with long sleeves and a wavering smile._

_“Father didn’t shatter you,” he mumbled sullenly, pouting a bit. “He loved you.”_

_Aishe laughed, “He does yes, but that never stops them from leaving.” And that destroyed her more than anything else._

_“I’ll never leave Billy!” He was outraged by just the thought of such a thing._

_His mother shook her head knowingly, “Funny, your father told me the same thing.”_

Izzy laughed without humor, shaking his head at his younger self. His mother was right of course, his love had indeed shattered Axl and he had left him not once, but _twice_ in one lifetime.

“I didn’t understand.” He told the sleeping city, voice soft and shaking. “I didn’t ever fucking understand.”

Not until it was too late anyway.

\------------------------------

No one asked for a continuation of the story, this would have confused Axl to no end if his mind was anywhere in this timeline. He went through the motions as best as he could, the others gave him his space, tried not to bother him, knew well enough that his being distant could change to him destroying everything in his path on a dime.

He seemed to come back a little during the show, performing with his usual untouchable level of energy. And if he stopped the music more than once to get some douchebag who was taunting him in the crowd thrown out, there was not much to be said about that by anyone.

If he snapped a bit harshly at his manager when the man timidly suggested they hit the road that same night, no one brought it up.

“Are you okay?” Duff asked quietly, when some groupie tried to grab Axl’s arm, he stepped in and pulled the redhead away. The man had looked ready to pick her up and _literally_ toss her down the stairs.

Sighing, the redhead rubbed his eyes, feeling frustrated for no apparent reason “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh nothing,” The bassist replied, voice dripping sarcasm. “It’s just that you were two seconds away from committing murder a while ago.” Axl glared daggers at him, sighing when he noticed those concern filled emerald eyes.

“I’m not sure.” He replied truthfully, frowning down at the tiles. “Maybe I’m just tired, let’s get back—we have to leave early tomorrow anyway.” The blond nodded, waving his head to signal the others, still having second thoughts.

Back at the hotel, they all decided to order room service and pile into Slash and Axl’s room watching movies. After drinking about half a bottle of vodka, Axl finally spoke up.

“So, apparently no one’s bitching about the story anymore.” He tried for casual and missed it by a mile and a half.

The others shared a look, “Well… we uh, we’ve been talking…”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, “Have you now?”

“And we’ve decided not to force it out of you,” Steven finished, fiddling with his hair nervously. “If it makes you uncomfortable and if there’s shit you don’t wanna talk about, then you shouldn’t talk about it.” _We’re sorry about last night,_ was pretty much what they were trying to say.

Axl squirmed, not expecting this at all. Hell, he was almost certain they hadn’t remembered anything from last night—but apparently they did. _They care about me, about how bringing this shit up makes me feel._ “I don’t feel uncomfortable…” He started, but cut off, struggling with his words. He took another sip of his drink, enjoying the burn of the smooth liquor. “It doesn’t hurt me, to talk about it. I… I think I might actually _need_ to.” He met Duff’s gaze, remembering his advice about talking about his feelings from long ago that Axl was coming to realize may be true.

“Just, maybe I’m not ready to talk about _everything_ …” He mumbled, thinking about Stephen.

“You can talk about whatever you want.” Slash commented, lighting a cigarette, the click of him closing the lighter sounding loud among them. “Whenever you want.”

“Izzy…?”

“It doesn’t bother me; you can say whatever you need to.”

The redhead nodded, hands shaking a bit. “Well then, I guess I’ll continue from… well after I ran away.”

“Again.” Slash teased, finally earning a hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey man, I was on the track team. I’m good at running.” He was a bit more comfortable now, grinning from ear to ear. “Anyway…”

“Ohh wait, is there sex?” Steven’s blue eyes were practically glowing; Axl couldn’t even be properly annoyed at the interruption.

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to—” He glanced quickly at Slash who was smirking back.

“Oh fuck yes, you’re supposed to.”

“Guys come on, it’s embarrassing. The first time it wasn’t even sex—”

Izzy snorted “I’m offended.”

“Anyway,” Axl said, rolling his eyes at their antics. “Anyway, after my big freak out, I kinda calmed down when I realized it wasn’t that much of a big deal really. I mean, no one knew, except us—I was kinda half expecting the skies to open up and God to step out looking miffed.” And that was another thing that shook him up too, the fact that _nothing happened_.  “We talked, the next day at school…”

“And made out with him!”

“Uhhh huh, right. Nope… I was a pussy,” he said, chuckling a bit. “I just called off the divorce…”

\--------------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Billy didn’t lay a finger on himself, instead, he went to church when Stephen got home, scared silent through the whole service. Half expecting God to appear out of nowhere and smite him, waiting for people to point and whisper as if his ‘sin’ was printed on his forehead. To his surprise (and relief), no one noticed, not even Stephen—who he expected to be the first to _smell_ the sin on him (And it was then that he begun to doubt everything he had ever been taught and threatened with).

“What’s wrong with you boy?” The man grumbled at the dinner table, eyeing the redhead suspiciously. “Why are ya so quiet tonight?”

Billy nearly passed out from fear. _This is it, you’ve finally done it now Billy boy._ “Nothing Pa.” He replied a bit too quickly, but he wasn’t given away.

“Make sure you do your home work for tomorrow, and get to bed early.”

“Yessir.” He kept his eyes firmly on his plate and dinner went on in the usual oppressive silence. It was as if everyone was waiting patiently for someone to do something stupid and cause the reverend to snap—hold their utensils wrong, allow the fork to clink too loudly on the plate, try to reply with their mouths full—anything of the sort.

Thankfully nothing happened.

No one was punished, well at least none of the children.

Billy woke up for school the following morning to see his mother sporting ugly purple bruises on the side of her slender arms. Apparently, dinner wasn’t cooked to perfection.

“You got your lunch sweetie?” She said, looking anywhere but at him—he realized she rarely looked him in the eyes anymore (had no idea then that the older he got the more he looked like his _real_ father, or that the reverend was well aware that William was not his son—another reason to punish Sharon.)

“I do.” He replied simply, then against his better judgement “What’s wrong with your arm?”

She started a bit, eyes darting nervously to Stephen who had stopped reading his paper at the table. “Nothing Billy, aren’t you gonna be late?”

“No, I’m early.” He sought out her brown eyes, she turned away each time. “Goodbye mother, father.”

“You really shouldn’t ask so many questions, boy.” Stephen grunted as Billy walked out to the front porch. The redhead ignored him, got on his bike and rode to school, deep in thought.

When he finally got there, he wandered around the halls, unsure of what to do. Izzy wasn’t there yet.

_But would Izzy still talk to him? He wanted them to stay together; he was stupid to run away._

The brunette showed up late to class, as usual. Hair messy, black tee slipping off one shoulder. He sat in his usual seat next to Billy and the redhead breathed a sigh of relief. It took him almost thirty minutes to work up the nerve to lean over and whisper:

“Izzy, can we still be married?” The teacher was rambling on about the importance of Algebra in the working world, or something equally boring.

The brunette turned to him, lips turning up a little at the corner. “I thought you didn’t want to?”

Billy blushed, managing to force “I still want to” around the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, ok.” Izzy slipped his hand under the table and held Billy’s—the redhead froze for a while, unsure of how to respond, but he eventually relaxes, and tangles their fingers together.

It felt nice. He liked it, his hands were a bit sweaty because he was nervous, but Izzy didn’t seem to mind.

They held hands on and off for the remainder of the day, when they thought no one was looking—or when _Billy_ thought no one was looking because Izzy really didn’t care either way.

The redhead couldn’t tell you what was taught throughout the day, because he couldn’t think straight, his heart was flipping all over the place, his stomach filled with butterflies.

He went home with Izzy as usual, showed up on Aishe’s doorstep holding her son’s hand, smiling bashfully down at his shoes.

“Hello Maam.”

She almost giggled, “Hey boys. I see you made up?” She shot a weighty look to Izzy who was beaming at her. “Hope you won’t _push_ anything.” Billy had no idea what they were talking about.

Izzy snorted, leading Billy inside. “Sure, mom.”

The redhead could feel Aishe’s gaze on them as they went inside, and he glanced back to see her eyeing them with a mixture of joy and worry. She waved when she noticed him looking, but before he could wave back Izzy was dragging him below to the basement.

“Whaddya wanna listen today?” Izzy released his hand to shuffle through the records, humming a little tune to himself. Billy didn’t answer, because he was crouching down and staring at a collection of tapes that he now noticed for the first time.

“What are these?”

“Oh, girl stuff ya know?” He replied, tone dismissive. “Plays, musicals, romantic movies, I’m pretty sure _Titanic_ is down there too.”

Billy wondered how to explain he _wanted_ to watch the girl stuff. Izzy raised a brow at his flaming face, and then wordlessly crouched next to him to pick out a tape—understanding just what he wanted to ask.

They settled on ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ and snuggled up on the couch watching it. Billy’s attention was split between the entrancing live action play and the warmth of Izzy pressed against him. Hesitantly he slipped his hand into Izzy’s again, sighing happily when the brunette gives it a gentle squeeze.

Marlon Brando was on the screen in black and white, screaming for Stella (for perhaps the hundredth time), when Izzy leaned closer, lips brushing against Axl’s ear and whispered “Hey, wanna kiss again?”

The redhead’s heart rate tripled, he clutched Izzy’s hand a bit tighter. He wanted to, he’d been thinking about it all day. “Yeah,” he replied, also whispering for some reason. “But I—I uh… don’t know how.”

Izzy smiled kindly, “Me neither.” They both shared a looked and burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. “Let’s do it like last time.”

Billy wanted to point out that he didn’t exactly do anything last time but thought the better of it “Yeah, ok.”

Time seemed to slow as Izzy leaned towards him, so close he could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes, the tiny freckles on his nose. Their lips met gently, it was a bit awkward, because neither knew just what the fuck they were doing or the right angle to do it at, but it lit Billy on fire just the same. Izzy’s lips were soft, a little damp from where he had been licking them. Billy wanted to taste him, fully, like he had seen in the movie.

“Izzy, kiss me for real.” He begged, blushing up a storm. _Oh, aren’t you all for sinning today?_

“Like in the movies?” Izzy’s face was scrunched up and so adorable that Billy couldn’t help himself, he tugged the boy forward by his collar, crushing their lips together, somehow managing to slip his tongue into his mouth. Their tongues danced clumsily together, twisting and tangling. Izzy was better for some reason, and without much ado he took control of the kiss, exploring Billy’s mouth with broad sweeps of his tongue, the redhead whimpered and shook, feeling that familiar heat coursing through him. A little shiver ran up his spine when Izzy’s hand found his hair, gently tugging at the coppery strands.

He pawed weakly at Izzy’s chest, pushing him back a bit, heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“Too much?”

Billy nodded slowly, licking obsessively at his lips. He was just a little bit hard and a whole lot confused. He scooted away to the far end of the couch, immediately missing Izzy’s heat, and pulled his feet up into the couch. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, it felt good.” The gypsy grinned, looking pleased with himself. “You’re good.”

“Thank you.” He replied, rubbing at his neck sheepishly. Izzy laughed, but not unkindly. “You were good too.”

“I love you, Angel.”

“I…” Billy’s mouth moved without sound, and his little hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. _Love? He loves me? Like Stephen ‘loves’ mom and the rest of us?_ “I gotta go.”

“Angel…” The brunette’s tone was warning, eyes sparking dangerously in the dim light of the basement. “It’s not even four o’clock yet.”

“I gotta go.” He repeated dumbly, wanting to stand but not able to find his feet.

“You don’t love me too?”

“Yes.” He snapped, frustrated. “But you _love_ me?” It didn’t make much sense, even to him.

“Since the first day I say you.” Izzy replied without hesitation.

Billy hesitated, eyes darting to Izzy’s. “And you… you won’t _hurt_ me?”

Izzy blinked, thrown by the question. “What?”

“You won’t hurt me because you love me, will ya Izzy?” He asked, blue eyes unwavering, “For stupid things, like talking too loud? Or not remembering my verses?”

The brunette’s eyes widened in realization, noticing for the first time what Aishe had seen from day one. “Billy… Billy do they hurt you?”

“He says he loves us, and it hurts him more than it hurts us. It’s ok, it’s only ‘cause God needs him to correct us.” He babbled, realizing he might have painted Stephen in a bad light. That wasn’t right, _he_ was the sinner, and Stephen was a man of God.

“Billy,” Izzy replied, voice filled with something the redhead had never before heard. “Billy, _Angel_ …” He gathered Billy into his arms, eyes still wide, and pressed him to his small chest, wrapping his skinny arms around the boy. He could hear the thumping of his heart clearly from his position, he liked it.

He felt… loved? Almost ready to break down and cry, but he didn’t. And that’s how Aishe found them when she finally came down to remind him of the time—with the movie long done and her son frowning at the wall while stroking Billy’s locks.

“Uhm… sweetie, It’s time.” She said softly, eyeing Izzy carefully, noticing that made no move to release his angel. “Izzy…”

“I gotta go.” He repeated, wriggling out of Izzy’s grasp. He knew for certain that if Izzy was stronger, he would have kept him there forever. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, ok?” He added, trying to reassure Izzy he’d be back.

The brunette never replied.

Billy bid Aishe goodbye and shuffled out, feeling like shit somehow. It was his burden to bear, but because he was weak, he had somehow managed to force it unto Izzy.

\----------------

**Present**

Axl wasn’t sure if he was crying or not, but Steven was there, comforting him. Slash was trying to pry the empty bottle away from him and Izzy was sitting on the floor frozen, with a concerned Duff nudging his shoulder.

“ _Fuck_ him.” Steven hissed venomously, “Fuck him with a prickly cactus.”

“Izzy?” Duff whispered, shaking him gently. “Izzy, come on, are you okay?”

“Fuck that.” He finally said, voice cutting through the air like a knife. “ _Fuck_ that! You shouldn’t have been bearing that burden in the first place, much less bear it _alone_. You hid it so well, if you hadn’t told me that evening, it would have taken me years to notice—” He laughed, a dark, twisted sound. “—I couldn’t protect you. I shouldn’t have let you stop me—”

“It’s not your fault either Izzy.” The redhead slurred, words muffled in Steven’s shirt. “I was stupid okay? It was just what he told me, about bearing it. You didn’t see it ‘cause I hid it well, like he told us to. It doesn’t even fucking matter now okay?” No answer. Axl blinked rapidly, clutching at Steven’s shirt. _Is he mad at me_? _Fuck, what have I fucking done this time?_ “Izzy—”

“The next time I see him…” He said calmly, thinking out loud. “The next time I see him, I’m _going_ to fucking kill him. And you won’t be able to stop me like last time.”He stood up in one graceful movement and stalked out of the room without another word.

“Fuck.” Duff hissed, running out after him.

“Axl…” The drummer mumbled, tone filled with worry. “What did he mean by ‘last time’?”

The redhead sobbed, then laughed and laughed and laughed. Because Izzy _would_ do it, and Axl wasn’t sure he would even _want_ to stop him this time. He wasn’t Billy anymore. Billy was as dead as Stephen was gonna be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uploaded again because I'll be gone for a few days :)  
> I could give you 2 updates, but where's the fun in that?  
> Buh-bye


	5. Chapter 5

**Present**

On the road again.

Being back in motion calmed Axl a bit and he was in the back of the bus smashing away at some video game with Steven. Slash was napping in his bunk and Duff was reading (it shocked almost everyone) some book about the process of making beer.

Sighing, Izzy sat there with his phone pressed to his ear, listening to it ring, wondering if the number had changed.

“Hello?” Aishe’s sweet voice floated through the speakers.

“Mother.” He said simply, eyes closed, forehead pressed against the back of the seat before him.

“Izzy?” A pause, then. “Izzy! Oh _baby_ , how are you?”

“I’m fine Ma, life is good.” He smiled a bit at her enthusiasm, “I’m just checking up on you. How are you?”

“I’m great.” She chirped, “I got your gift, you really don’t need to buy me expensive shit all the time Izzy.”

“You deserve it.”

“Well of course,” she teased, “but you can lay off it now.”

“Never.”

There was a loaded pause, before Izzy built his resolve to speak. “You were right.”

“Of course I was.” She replied, chuckling weakly. “What about this time?”

He swallowed, heaving a sigh before forcing out “About me leaving Axl.”

More silence.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Her concern was almost palpable. “Aren’t you on tour with him right now, did you lea—”

“No no. We’re on tour, but you were right, about before.”

“I’m not proud about my win this time.” She murmured softly.

“I almost _broke_ him.” He choked, eyes tearing up, “I think I might have, if he didn’t have people there to _hold him_ together.”

“Oh baby…”

“I left because I thought I was fucking him up,” he laughed through his tears. “But by leaving, I fucked him up even _more_.”

Aishe didn’t know what to say, so she opted for silence. There really wasn’t much to do about these things, she had _seen_ it, and it had come to pass, like it always does.

“He’s happy now. With another.”

“Well then baby, its fine.” She said, “What happened happened, there’s no use beating yourself up about it.”

“I need him still.”

There was a long stretch of silence. “Jesus _Fuck_ , Jeffrey!” he could hear the clinking of glass in the background. “Knew it, I saw it with my own eyes. _Perfect_ for each other, but liable to be the _death_ of each other too. You and your goddamn father are in the same boat, he was almost the death of me. You Isbell men and your wandering eye—”

Izzy giggled at his mother’s rant. “Ok, I get you. I won’t do anything stupid on instinct.” _It’ll all be carefully planned out._ “Anyway, we’re gonna do a show in Indiana, so I’ll be seeing you soon.” He added casually, inspecting his nails. _Oh, Stephen, I’ll be seeing you soon too._

Aishe was instantly suspicious of his tone “Izzy…”

“Aishe?”

“ _What_ are you up to?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” he said, nonchalantly. “Nothing at all.”

His mother sighed, swearing in Romani about ‘the crazy son she had’. “Whatever kiddo, just stay outta trouble. I can tell you’re up to something.”

The brunette chuckled, propping his feet up on the seat, already vividly planning exactly what he would do. “I won’t do anything I haven’t _carefully_ considered.”

“Hey now—”

“Goodbye, I love you.” He ended the call.

\------------------------

“You gotta!” Duff whined, they had scored some weed from a shady looking mother fucker when they last stopped, and were currently sprawled about the bus, high as fuck.

“Nooooo,” Axl drawled from his perch on Slash’s lap. “It’s _embarrassing_.”

“We won’t laugh _too_ hard.” Steven wasn’t sure if he said that out loud, but the tiny elves on the ceiling were laughing, so he guessed it was out loud after all.

Izzy was oddly quiet all day, even for him, surprisingly; he was way more mouthy high. “You gotta tell ‘em, you promised, Angel.”

A soft intake of breath, then Axl was blushing and burying his face in Slash’s shoulder. “Nooo, it’s not fair, I sound like a fucking newbie.”

“You were.”

Slash roared with laughter, upsetting the little redhead on his lap. “I wanna hear this, what happened.”

“Well, little Billy had never seen porn before,” Izzy begun, grinning wolfishly. “And I showed him my little collection, and—”

“Ok, fuck you very much, _I’ll_ tell it.” Axl snapped, realizing Izzy would probably further ruin his already tarnished image. “Anyway, I was at his place as usual and he decided to pull out an interesting little shoe box…”

\----------------------

**Past, Indiana**

“What’s in it?” Billy asked, watching Izzy upside-down from his sprawl on the bed. They had graduated to Izzy’s room upstairs when they turned thirteen, and had moved most of their meetings up there.

“My stash.” Izzy replied, grinning a little. He then pulls out a whole array of magazines and spreads them across the bed. One glossy issue landed right next to Billy’s head. Frowning, he rolled unto his stomach to get a closer look, then promptly choked on air.

“Izzy…” Billy couldn’t control the way his voice squeaked and cracked awkwardly at the end of that sentence. _Playboys_? Each issue displayed a different girl, most of them scantily clad—Billy squeezed his eyes shut. “Izzy what the hell?”

The brunette didn’t seem concerned; in fact he just smirked harder. “What? Not your style? How about this one then?” He gently nudged an issue of _Out Magazine_ towards the redhead, whose small mouth hung open at the sight of a beautiful Spanish boy on the cover, perched on the hood of a car, wearing nothing but thin black boxers.

“Oh.” He breathed, brushing his hands across the cover reverently. His heart thumped in his chest, and him swallowing frequently wasn’t _doing_ anything about his dry throat. He felt hot all over again; skin too tight, the beginnings of heat curling in his abdomen.

“You like him?” Izzy whispered, watching him closely with that infuriating smile still in place. He brushed a few strands of his hair out of his face before he spoke again, “You’ve never seen shit like this, have you?”

Billy shook his head, strands of hair whipping his pale face.

“Do you like it?”

Billy nodded almost imperceptibly, biting on his bottom lip.

“You can open it ya know.” Izzy’s voice was dripping amusement, and Billy flipped it open quickly, landing on a random page, just to prove he wasn’t afraid.

The other pages knocked the breath out of him, the curly haired boy (he looked pretty young)  was as bare as the day he was born, and Billy couldn’t help that the first thing his eyes went were the boy’s eyes (to check if they were like Izzy’s—they weren’t). Then he’s panting as his eyes drift lower, past the various tattoos, pass his abs, following his treasure trail to his cock.

He felt another shock run up his spine and his own dick stiffen in his pants _. Fuck, Fuck , Fuck, he was going straight to hell_. The man was… well he was pretty (and that was odd, because the only person he had ever thought was pretty is Izzy—but he would never dare tell him). He turned the page and there was the beautiful man, bent over a chair with his fingers pushed into himself, little pink pucker stretched obscenely around them (he had no idea boys could even _do_ that), and Billy lets out a surprised ‘ahh’ and presses his crotch into the mattress _. Did it feel good? How did it feel to be full?_

_Could Izzy touch him like that? Fill him up?_

Billy moaned.

Izzy was shifting on the bed and pulling his hair up into a tiny ponytail, face flushed. “You’re getting horny aren’t you?”

Billy ducked his head and buries his blush in the bed. “Fuck you.”

Izzy laughs, shifting again till he was lying next to the redhead. “Wanna do something about it?”

“Like what?” Billy mumbled, lifting his head to tug at the collar of his shirt, face still flushed.

“You know…” The brunette made a vague gesture.

“Know what?” Billy asked, propping himself up with one hand and pushing the hair from his face with another.

“Jerk off, you idiot.”

Billy blinked at the brunette, head tilted in confusion. “Masturbate?”

Izzy rolled unto his back laughing, “Yeah ‘ _masturbate’_ you goof.” He copied Billy’s tone, rolling unto his side to make eye contact. “What, have you never jerked off before?”

The redhead looked down, blushing all the way up to his ears. “We’re not supposed to…”

“Huh?”

“It’s a sin.” He stated simply, chewing on the side of his thumb.

“Woah…” Izzy’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what do you do when you get hard? Cause I _know_ you do, when we make out.”

The redhead cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the plain bedspread. “Nothin’”

“What?”

“Nothing, ok?” Billy snapped, twice as annoyed now that the fucker had got him hard and there was nothing he could do to relieve the pressure in his jeans.

 There was a lengthy pause in which neither of them spoke, but then Izzy was tipping his chin up and forcing him to meet silvery eyes. “Wanna do it together?”

“Huh? I dunno…” He trailed off, embarrassed, wishing the bed would just swallow him up.

“I’ll do it for you.” His thumb was stroking Billy’s sharp cheekbone now, and the redhead swore he could feel his cock jump at the fleeting contact.

“If…” he gulped nervously, thinking back to last night and how he got whipped for accidentally changing the channel Stephen was ‘watching’ without realizing “Can I keep my shirt on?”

The brunette frowned a little but nodded, thumb now tracing his lower lip. On reflex, Billy licks his lips and his soft, wet tongue brushed Izzy’s thumb. His grey eyes darkened.

“I’m Sorry—” But Izzy’s lips were already on his before he could trip over an apology, now a lot more confident and coordinated. He allowed him to dominate, every skilled sweep of his tongue sending a sliver of heat down below. Billy made a sound he couldn’t recognize, raw and needy, embarrassing to his own ears. His slender hips jerked forward when the brunette gently tugged on his lower lips with his teeth; he could feel it, how _hard_ he was, how hot one kiss was getting him, he could barely think straight.

“Izzy…” he whimpered, clutching the Brunette’s collar for dear life. He had no idea where this was supposed to go, but _fuck_ , he needed some sort of relief.

“Get it out, Angel.” Izzy rasped, eyes dilated, lips cherry red. “Get your dick out, I wanna see it.”

Then he was feeling insecure again, because what if he didn’t look right? Or normal? What if Izzy didn’t like him? “I’m not…”

Izzy must have seen it on face from a mile away, because he pecked his lips and said “You’re beautiful, I _know_ you’re beautiful everywhere.”

Nodding, he reaches down to undo his jeans with shaking hands, not having the guts to look Izzy in the eye. That was until he managed to shove his pants and underwear down to his knees and register the pornographic groan that leaves Izzy’s lips.

“Oh baby….” Billy didn’t get it; he thought he looked pretty normal, not like the beautiful man in the magazine. He saw Izzy staring at him like he was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on, eyeing his cock that was plump and red in the head as if it were his own personal feast.

He was so fucking wet, and he’s probably be embarrassed by that if he could find enough brain cells to, because Izzy promptly licked his palm (the imagery enough to make the redhead leak more fluid from his tip) and wrapped his hand around Billy.

Billy gasped, clutching Izzy’s hand, mouth wide open. “Oh, oh _fuck_.”

“ _Yeah_ , Angel.” Izzy murmured approvingly, wriggling a hand into his own sweats. “It feels good right? Me touching your cock? Fuck, it’s perfect, like candy. I wanna fuckin’ lick you down there— _everywhere_.”

Billy wanted to squawk in outrage at that candy comment, but he was too fuckin turned on to do anything but thrust into Izzy’s grip and moan like a whore. Luckily Aishe wasn’t home, because he honestly wasn’t sure what he’d tell her.

The drag of Izzy’s palm against his heated flesh, a feeling so new and foreign to him, was enough to pull him to the edge embarrassingly quick. More liquid dribbled from the tip, lubricating the brunette’s sharp tugs which were now much smoother, rubbing him in the best way possible, fingers swiping over the swollen head of his cock.

Billy didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but he was as terrified as he was happy, because the fire inside him _never_ stopped, it kept building, his fingertips were tingling, his balls drawing up, and for a moment he was scared he’d burst into flames and burn out.

He told Izzy as much, nails digging into the younger boy’s arm. “Izzy, I—I feel like I’m gonna…” Well to be honest, he felt like he was gonna… well pee, but not quite. This was more intense than any piss he had ever taken in his life.

“Yeah, fuck. It’s ok, you’re gonna cum.” Oh, that made a lot more sense now. Izzy was twisting his hand over the head now, tugging quickly, hand making lewd, slick noises that seemed too loud in the quiet room. “You’re gonna cum for me, Angel? Get it all over my hand? Fuck, I’m close too. You look so good like this, all messed up for me. I can’t wait till I get _inside_ of you.”

And that’s pretty much what finally pushed him over, he wailed and arched towards Izzy, hips stuttering, spilling copious amounts of cum all over Izzy’s hand, some landed on his shirt.

Cumming for the first time (the first time he was conscious anyway) was probably his first real religious experience, he felt alive, like he was being taken apart and rebuilt by something bigger than he could understand.

When Izzy started to moan through his own orgasm, Billy’s spent cock twitched weakly, releasing a dribble of cum.

Izzy smiled at him after, kissing every individual freckle on his face. “Lemme clean you up, baby boy. You gotta go.”

Oh how he had forgotten all about that, all the mundane shit he would have to face. He was so lost in this little world of theirs, that he had forgotten the dull reality he had to exist in.

His gypsy took care of him without a word, cleaned them both up, tucked him in, zipped him up and stroked his hair. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it.” He replied, beaming at Izzy.

“Do it whenever you’re hard again.” The brunette advised, “It’s healthy and not a fucking sin or anything. You can borrow my mags if ya want.”

“I can’t.” He whispered, stomach lurching. If Stephen found it, he couldn’t guarantee his own safety. Not that he ever could.

Izzy nodded, “Fine, guess we’ll have to do it together then.” He didn’t sound so put out about it.

Billy laughed, punching Izzy gently. “Fine, ok.” He hesitated for a bit, before finally building up enough courage to lean over and kiss his gypsy. “I love you. Goodbye.”

The brunette walked him out, and Billy kissed him on the porch again, daring and bold. He ran home, turning around everyone now and then to check if Izzy was still watching, he was. He walked backwards, stumbling and waving till his gypsy was out of sight.

\-----------------------

**Present, Tour Bus**

“Holy fucking shit.” Duff said, blinking at Axl. “Is it wrong that I’m kinda hard?” 

“Yeah you pervert.” The redhead snorted, “We were thirteen.”

“Aww, I bet you looked so pretty.” Steven said, the elves in the ceiling nodded in agreement.

“The fucker tasted even better too.” Izzy mumbled, crawling over to Duff for a taste.

“Like what?” The drummer asked, because his brain was demanding he know.

The grey-eyed man pulled away from Duff’s lips with a slick sound “Where exactly?”

“Everywhere.”

The gypsy considered this for a while, ignoring Axl’s squeaks of protest. “Well, I can’t explain it. He tastes like him.”

“But,” Steven sat up, and clutched Izzy’s arm, speaking sincerely. “Where does he taste best?”

“No, we are not having this discussion—”

“His ass.” The brunette replied with a lewd grin, “Hey Slash, what about you?”

The redhead shifted on Slash’s lap, pushing his curls out of his face in an attempt to meet his eyes. “Tell me you’re not taking part in this—”

“His dick.” He replied, then added after careful consideration “But his ass is prett—”

“ALL OF YOU GO TO BED!”

“Ya know,” Izzy was crawling back towards Slash now, eyes shining bright. “He gets real nasty when you tug on his hair.”

“Fitting.” Duff commented sagely, lying back in his seat.

“Really?” Slash’s eyes widened, “He loses it when you play with his—”

Axl stood up unsteadily, face flaming, hands on his hips. “If you don’t all get to bed right _now_ , I’m ensuring no one scores _any_ drugs for the remaining nine months of this fucking tour.”

The men scattered.

\----------------

Another City, Another concert, another hotel, another interview.

Axl was sauntering around his hotel room in only his boxers (how he was usually photographed while in any hotel on tour), ignoring Duff who was strumming away on an acoustic guitar on the bed. They had switched the living arrangements, Slash got Izzy (and man was that irking Axl) and Axl got Duff—Steven got a room of his own (no one knows just what the fuck he was doing in there because he hadn’t come out since last night—a safe guess was beer and video games).

Axl hadn’t continued the story in a while and Duff was beginning to piece things together. The redhead was worried about something, something regarding these stories. He kept looking at Izzy and frowning when he thought no one was watching, deep in thought.

 _Oh_.

Duff lowered his guitar and stared at Axl’s back. “You’re scared to tell the story because there’s stuff you haven’t told Izzy yet, aren’t you?”

The redhead whirled around to consider him with those startling blue eyes. He knew it was useless to lie to Duff. “Maybe.”

The blond nodded and looked away. “Don’t you think now’s a chance to tell him?”

The man paused, folding his arm over his chest. “Maybe.”

Duff rolled his eyes heavenward, frustrated by these non-answers. “You are aware you’re an infuriating asshole, right?”

Axl laughed, loud and carefree. “ _Maybe_.”

The blond smiled and shook his head. “So are you gonna tell me what’s up with you two?”

“What?”

Duff rolled his eyes _, he thinks’ I’m stupid doesn’t he_? “You and your fucking gypsy.”

“What? Nothing.” He replied, smile dropping. “Why?”

There was silence for a while. “Do you _want_ anything to be?”

“Duff…”

“No,” He raised his hand in a placating gesture. “Its fine ok, I told you before, I know he’s not mine.”

“I love Slash.” He stated simply, truthfully.

“I know you do.” Duff replied, “But he’s not Izzy, is he?”

“That’s the fuckin point.” Axl snapped, straightening and stalking towards the bed. “He left _me_ , ok? Not the other way around, so don’t think I’m going to go running back to him.”

Duff smiled sadly, “Come on, man. You really think you got a choice?”

Axl tensed, then his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m not gonna hurt Slash… I—I can’t.”

“I know.”

“Duff what do I do?” The redhead ask, eyes looking the most striking green in the sunlight.

“I don’t know.” And that was the problem. “I’d say have a threesome and solve your problems like we did, but Slash would probably try to strangle Izzy and not in the good way.”

Both men were silent, listening to the sound of traffic below, lost in their own thoughts.

“I wonder what the fuckers are talking about anyway…” Axl mused.


	6. Chapter 6

Slash glanced over the napping natural disaster next to him for perhaps the twentieth time ever. He didn’t look like much while sleeping, in fact he looked pretty saintly—but Slash knew better.

He shifted silently as he could, not wanting to wake Izzy, he just actually started sleeping about an hour ago, he spent the whole night staring out at the city in the darkness—at least, that’s how Slash saw him when he woke up.

He was curious about him, he watched him breath, noticed how he curled himself around a pillow, how his dark lashes curled prettily upwards.

 _He sure is a sight to behold._ Slash thought, squinting at the little beads in the gypsy’s hair. _I can see why Axl loves him so much._ The brunette huffed, looking away again, afraid he’d get too drawn in. _I wonder what his story is; he doesn’t talk much about himself._

“Shut up.” Izzy groaned, startling Slash.

“Uhm… I wasn’t _saying_ anything.” Slash kept his eyes on the man who made no indication he had spoken, he was in the same position, eyes still closed, breathing still even.

“You think fucking loudly though.” Izzy said, finally opening his eyes to stare at the guitarist, almost laughing when he saw the shock on his features. “No, I don’t read minds.” Izzy scratched his hair, uncurling and stretching languidly. “Why does everyone assume that?” He murmured, almost to himself.

“Well, I wasn’t talking out loud and you—” Slash paused, brows furrowed. “How the hell did you do that?”

Izzy shrugged easily, “I’m certain there was steam coming out of your ears ‘cause you were over thinking something. That’s all I can say.”

“Whatever.” A lame comeback, probably, but Slash was too caught up with staring into those cat-like eyes, still smudged with liner from their show last night. He _was_ beautiful, he could see the appeal.

“Like what ya see, sugar?” Izzy drawled, smirking a little bit.

The guitarist spluttered, cheeks warming up a bit. “Sugar?”

The brunette seemed to be waiting for that question. “Yeah, _brown_ sugar.” He wiggled his brows suggestively, surprising a stuttering laugh out of Slash.

“Ok, fine. Sugar.” He conceded, shaking his head in awe. First ‘serial killer’ now ‘sugar’, maybe the nicknames were an Indiana thing too.

“Mhmm, sure.” Izzy was giving him that ‘I don’t care if you approved of it or not, I’m, calling you sugar regardless’ kinda look, and the guitarist rolled his eyes. The sass must be an Indiana thing too.

He chuckled and looked away, “You two are the same.” He murmured to himself, almost shrieking when Izzy shuffled closer.

“Hey, speaking of the little red tornado,” Slash snorted at that. “Has he told you anything?”

“Hmmm?” _Told me anything he hasn’t already told you? Yeah, I doubt it._

Izzy sighed, resting his chin on Slash’s shoulder. “He’s hiding something from me… I can see it in his eyes.”

“No idea,” Slash lied through his teeth. A blind man could have seen Axl was reluctant about sharing something, but he decided not to get involved in that.

“Tut tut, sugar.” Izzy pulled away and rolled over to the nightstand, fumbling for a cigarette. “Good guys shouldn’t practice fibbing.”

Slash couldn’t help feeling a bit charmed by the man, the way he talked, looked, smiled—despite the attitude. “I don’t know if you’re unaware man, but gingersnap is the best at hiding things.” He watched the end of Izzy’s cigar flare as he took a drag on it, and he couldn’t help wondering…

“No, there’s nothing between us.” Izzy stated, “Red’s not hiding anything of the sort from you, sugar.”

Slash sighed, feeling a bit stupid for being so insecure. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

“I know.” Those gun-metal grey eyes were staring directly at him now, devoid of emotion. “I’d be worried too, if I were you.” _Because he’s mine, and you can’t fucking have him._

 The tension was back, thick and stifling.

What exactly do you do while in bed with your boyfriend’s well…. Husband?

Slash shrugged, “Lemme paint your nails.”

“Pardon?” Izzy blinked at him, not expecting that at all.

“I said,” Slash huffed, rolling off the bed and searching for his nail polish.  The shimmery blue was still on his fingers from last night, he liked it. “Lemme do your nails, little gypsy. Sit up”

The brunette laughed, but complied, shaking his head in bewilderment. They sat their together, talking about nothing, which eventually turned into talking about Axl.

“He has to be the bitchiest person I know.” Slash commented, applying a second layer of the blue to Izzy’s thumb.

“Not to mention petty, believe me, he forgets nothing. He’ll find some way to get you back for the simplest of things.”

“You’re telling me? He waited weeks till we went back to LA to walk up to one of my snakes and get her back for scaring him one night. He holds a grudge.”

“Against a snake?” Izzy asked, grinning at the imagery of Axl trying to sneak up on a fucking snake. The son of a bitch would.

Slash laughed “Oh yeah, he won’t admit it, but they scare him shitless.”

“As badly as he’s scared of dogs?”

And then Izzy’s delving into the story about that time in high school Axl got chased by Izzy’s retriever and refused to come over for a week. Slash lit up when he talked about Axl, was genuinely interested in all the stories about him, cared for him with all his heart.

Izzy watched him, and felt frustrated and happy all at once, because Axl deserved someone that loved him like this. But, at the same time, no one would love Axl like him, he was sure of it.

Slash got up to use the bathroom, and Izzy sat there cross-legged in the centre of the bed, shimmery blue nail polish (the colour of Axl’s eyes sometimes) catching the strips of sunlight and shining brilliantly.

“You love him,” he intoned. “You love him, but he’s not _yours_ to love.” He wanted, desperately, to climb into Axl’s head and erase Slash’s memory. But he wanted Axl to be happy with Slash, to get all the love he could from that beautiful man. “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry but I guess it cant be helped.”

\--------------------------

Amy thought it would be fun to drop in and surprise Axl, she really did. It had been months since she last saw him. What she didn’t expect however, was to see Izzy there with him too. Sure, she’d been a bit out of the loop, and yeah, she knew all about his band—but truthfully, she thought it was Axl, Slash and some other guys. She had never met Duff or Steven, but seeing Izzy lounging there on the couch in the room had near most bowled her over.

“JEFFREY!” She squealed, then she’s pushing past Axl to smother him in a hug.

“How’s it hangin’ little Red?” The brunette asked, standing to catch the little ball of energy. “Jeez, you’re not quitting with the blue and white, eh?”

Amy released him long enough to twirl, eyes bright with delight. “Never.”

“Uhm… hello.” Axl tapped his foot impatiently, “Did you not see your _brother_?”

“Oh I saw you alright; it’s hard to miss someone with glow-in-the-dark skin and hair.” She teased, pulling him into a hug.

“Ugh,” Sarah groaned, taking off her sunglasses to ensure everyone could see she was rolling her eyes. “They’re both loud _and_ jealous.”

 Slash laughed, practically lifting her off the floor into a hug. “You’re still taking care of Ames.”

“She can’t survive without me.” Sarah surveyed the men, “Wow, all five wearing makeup and nail polish. I’m _impressed._  On a scale of 1-10, how gay are you all? _”_  

"Twelve." Izzy answered, smirking.

She pulled her camera out of her bag, wiggling it in the air. “Luckily, I carried Lucy.”

“Oh of course you’d have a field day with this.” Axl snorted, “I vividly remember the violation I had to endure last time.”

“Shut up, princess.” She shot back, snapping a picture of him and nearly blinding him with the flash. “You appreciated getting the nice pictures posted to you, didn’t you?”

“You’re evil.” He whined, shooting Slash a warning glance when the brunette giggled. “Short people are all evil little things.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re a ginger, and gingers don’t have souls.”  Duff cracked up, startling the little lady.

“He is a soulless beast.” Steven added, waving at her. “I’m Steven, this is Duff.”

“I’m Sarah, the girl in blue and white is Amy—the sibling of the soulless one.” They all exchanged greetings and headed downstairs for lunch, Axl and Amy exchanging banter and arguing all the while. They stayed for the show, got front row seats to boot. Amy couldn’t resist teasing him afterwards.

“Oh, so you’ve ditched running around in skin tight pants?” She asked, casually. “For running around in tiny shorts and converse? Your fashion sense is still lacking I see.” The redhead growled, chasing her down the hallway to the cheers of his sellout band mates.

They left at around midnight, promising to meet up with them in Indiana. “Take care of him for me, Izzy!” She yelled from the car, certain that Izzy would. _He always did._

“Izzy?” Sarah whispered from the driver’s seat, waving at Axl with a confused little frown. “Isn’t he with Slash? Did I imagine the loud sex last time?”

Amy blinked, “Well, yeah but… Izzy’s here so…” She trailed off, eyes wide. _Oh my God, Izzy was there too. While Slash was there. While Axl was involved with Slash, but Axl was very much Izzy’s_. “Oh holy shit, that can’t end well.”

\----------------------------------

“High school.”

“High school? Dear Lord.” The vocalist groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “The best and worst time of my life.”

“Tell us.” Steven prompted, draped over Izzy’s lap.

“I’m too drunk.” Axl slurred, head hanging off the bed. “I’d tell you pure shit.”

The men all glanced at Izzy; they’d never seen him drunk before. He was very much sober, plaiting Steven’s hair. “Fine, but only because we agreed on splitting the story.”

“Yaaaay!” Duff yelled, placing a big kiss on Izzy’s cheek. The brunette rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but you better listen, cause I don’t like talking much and I won’t be repeating shit.” He glanced up to check if he had their attention. He did. “Right, so high school was a different ball game altogether. For one thing, Axl fucking happened.”

“Axl?”

“Oh yeah, Billy only lasted for two years or so into high school,” Axl slipped of the bed with a thud. “But before _Axl_ happened, _puberty_ happened.”

\---------------------

 **Past** , **Indiana**

Puberty hit Billy like a freight train, and that was just the beginning of odd things. He shot up like a beanstalk, shoulders got wider though his hips remained slender, he lost all most of his baby fat, and now he was all angles and sharp edges. His sharp cheekbones, the defined V between his hips, his sharp tongue that uttered cutting replies—Izzy loved him all the more for it.

Sometimes Billy would look at him and tell him he had changed, his raven hair was way longer now, past his collar, his eyes more serious, his smiles less frequent (in public anyway, once with Axl he smiled till his face hurt), that he’d gotten even quieter over the years.

“You look more like a man now.” He’d say, in those quiet sessions on Billy’s roof, where no one could see them, the night sky shining down on the two.

“And you look more like mine now.” Izzy would retort, before pulling him into a scorching hot kiss.

Another thing came with puberty, apart from looks, there came attention from every angle. Billy, for the first time in his life, was the center of attention. Girls of all ages flocked to him, and Izzy couldn’t blame them. Billy was on the track team, he was smart, he was handsome, he had the bad boy reputation, what more could the pretty little things ask for?

He didn’t _blame_ them, but he sure as fuck didn’t _like_ them.

They flocked to him too, by the numbers. Giggling and flashing their hips so their little skirts would ride up. They were pretty and they were sweet but they weren’t Billy—so he paid them little mind.

Billy, on the other hand, unused to this attention, got drawn in by many of them. Currently, he was on a date with that Sonia girl, the senior with amazing legs. Izzy laid in the darkness of his room, listening to his mother move around downstairs, seething in his anger.

 At Billy, at Sonia, at the fucking Gods, at the world.

Why would the fates hand him what was his, then have him watch it being taken away?

Attention wasn’t the only thing puberty brought with it, it also carried awareness. Awareness of others, of things they never noticed before. Billy told him that he noticed how the Reverend was looking at little Amy, how he tilted his head to the side and _preyed_ on her when she ran in the house, tail of her little blue dress flying behind her.

“He watches her, Izzy, and that ain’t right.” He didn’t mention that the Reverend looked at him like that sometimes too, but he didn’t need to, Izzy knew. Everyone looks at Billy like that, the teachers, the men on the streets, the girls—it both pleased and infuriated him, because Billy wouldn’t let him claim him in public (nor had they done it in private yet), wouldn’t let him force them to acknowledge that yes, the boy was beautiful, but he wasn’t theirs.

It pissed him off.

There was the sound of a pebble bouncing off his window. Izzy sat still for a while, briefly considering leaving him out there. Before he could throw another, however, the brunette was sliding off the bed and opening the window, not pausing to stare down at Billy in the moonlight like he usually would.

The redhead found his way up by the ladder resting on the side of the house. “Hey, Izzy.” He muttered when he finally climbed through the window, closing it to keep out the chilly breeze. He needn’t have, because Izzy was ice cold towards him at the moment anyway.

Izzy didn’t answer.

Billy lingered uncertainly at the edge of the bed, before climbing on and lying next to Izzy. “What’s wrong?” He asked, as if he didn’t know how hard it was for Izzy to watch him go off with these girls, doing god knows what.

He couldn’t take it anymore; he turned away when the redhead tried to kiss him, barking. “You smell like her, whoever that bitch is.” It tormented him; the perfume seemed to dance around him, taunting him—a reminder that someone else had touched his Angel.

“W-what are you talking—”

Izzy hauled him forward by his collar, eyes red-rimmed. “You’re driving me _crazy_ , Angel—” His voice cracked, and then gave way altogether.

Billy was silent for a while, then he pulled away and begun stripping out of his clothes. Frantically. “God, I’m so sorry Izz. I didn’t think—” He stood there, bare, ivory skin glowing softly blue eyes sincere. “Can I use your shower?”

Izzy laughed or sobbed a little, he couldn’t tell. “Yeah, sure.” He watched, entranced as Billy walked, unashamed, to his bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He emerged a few minutes later, damp and smelling like Izzy.

“Can I borrow your sweats?”

The brunette pointed him to the closet, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as the redhead pulls on a pair of his sweat pants. He shuffled over to the bed, and threw himself on top of Izzy. “I’m stupid, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, peppering Izzy’s face with warm kisses.

“Yeah, you are.” He grumbled, closing a hand on Billy’s pale skin and squeezing. “Who did you go out with?” He asked, as if he didn’t know, as if he didn’t watch her fawn over Billy daily.

“Sonia, cheerleader from literature class.” He said carefully.

“You fuck her?” He blew a lung full of smoke into Billy’s beautiful face.

The redhead stared at him, “No. You know I’d never.” His voice was firm, true.

“You listen to me, don’t waste your first time with any of them.” He commanded, “You’re _mine_.”

Billy’s face flamed, and it was such a boyish thing to see a now-mature boy do. “I’ve never— I’ll do it with you… when…”

 The brunette laughed, kissing Billy’s burning cheeks. _Don’t rush it_ , his mum said, and he wouldn’t—though it was nearly _killing_ him to. “Whenever you want, Angel.”

The redhead smiled, running a hand through his hair. “How? How’d we do it?” Izzy’s eyes darkened, he could see what he was playing at from a mile away.

“How’d you wanna do it?”He asked, rolling to his side. “You wanna fuck me? Or you want me to fuck you?”

Billy smiled bashfully, voice breathy in that way that let Izzy know he was getting turned on just from the thought of it. “I want _you_ to fuck me, well, the first time.”

Izzy twirled a lock of Billy’s hair around his finger, “Is that right? And after that, Angel? You fuck me while I’m still leaking out of you?” God, he’d let him. He’d let Billy do whatever the fuck he wanted to him, and he’d _enjoy_ it.

“Oh God.” He whimpered, clutching Izzy’s shoulder, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Show me— _tell_ me.” The brunette grins, Billy always loved to hear him talk like this.

Izzy pulled away, shifting Billy unto his back, kneeling between his splayed legs. “You wanna know how I’ll do it?”

The redhead nods, biting on his lower lips, staring up at Izzy with wide eyes. “Izzy…”

The brunette leaned forward till their foreheads were touching, till his eyes could make out ever freckle on his face. “You scared?”

Billy closed his eyes, nodding quickly. “I just don’t know… if—have you ever done it before?”

“No.” Izzy replied, “But I know how, how to make it not hurt, how to make it good for you.” He tried it before, by himself, trying to learn as much as he could to make it the best Billy had ever had, when they got around to it.

“How?”

“Well first, you gotta start out slow.” He muttered, kissing Axl gently, devouring the happy little sigh he let out. “I’ll kiss you, till you can’t breathe, till you’re not scared anymore—I know you are, I can feel your heart.” He rested his palm on Billy’s bare chest, feeling his sharp intake of breath and his racing heart. “I’ll kiss you the way you I know you like, when I hold you still and fuck your mouth with my tongue till you squirm and try to rub against me.”

“Izzy… Izzy _fuck_ , kiss me.” Billy begged, voice hushed and trembling, Izzy proceeded to give him exactly what he wanted, because that’s all he could do, all he’d _ever_ been able to do.

“You taste so _good_.” He groaned, pulling away for breath when the redhead attempted to roll his hips upwards. “Then I’ll touch you all over, till you’re begging me to touch you where you really need it—and you’ll need it after a while.” Billy _arched_ , begging wordlessly, probably for something he didn’t understand. Izzy took the chance to slip his hand behind the redhead, sliding it into the back of his sweats, squeezing the soft flesh.

“Do it.”

“Bill…” he breathed, pulling his hand away. “Shut up and let me talk.”

The redhead laughed, breath rushing out of him all at once. “You’re a rude little bitch, I shouldn’t let you fuck me at all.”

Izzy grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh but you’ll want me to.”Then he brought their hips together, starling a broken gasp from Billy. “Where was I? You distracted me. Hmm… fingers, you gotta get them _wet_ , Angel. Then you work em in real slow down there—”

He swallowed, squirming even more “Does it… is it good?”

“It’s fucking insane.” The brunette rolled his hips against Billy’s heat, eyes falling closed at the friction. “There’s this spot inside you, that feels _really_ good when you go at it. Fuck, it can make you come without even _touching_ your dick. First time I was doing it, I found it by accident; I came so hard I fucking teared up.”

Billy gasped, cheeks heating. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Izzy laughed, “That brings me to the next step. We fuck.”

Dark blue-eyes regarded him, Billy looked about ready to rip off his sweats and demand Izzy fuck him. “And how will that work?”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “Whaddya think angel? I get between your legs,” He forced Billy to spread his legs wider. “I work in real slow, then I thrust—” He rolled his hips against the redhead’s, miming the action of fucking. “And I thrust, fuck right up against your spot—”

Billy choked on a breath, rocking his hips up to meet Izzy’s thrusts, mumbling something the brunette could barely make sense of.

“Then I hit that spot over and over, Angel, till you shoot all over your stomach.” Then they’re rubbing against each other, panting and growling. Billy gripping Izzy’s hair, mouth falling open on every moan.

“Fuck, Izzy, I want you to.”

“You want me to, baby?” Izzy asked, sucking a mark into Billy’s neck, unsatisfied, he didn’t want a barrier between them, he needed skin on skin contact. He needed to mark his boy up, make the world know that he was owned. “Then why won’t you just let me? Get on your back, spread your legs and let me _in_.” He punctuated that sentence with hard roll of his hips.

“I want to…” He cried, breathing hard, lashes fluttering. “God, I want to.” He was close, from just this, Izzy could tell by the way his hips were jerking, a bit off the rhythm they had made; by the way his nails were digging into Izzy’s shoulder. “I think I’m… fuck.” He sounded almost embarrassed, squeezed his eyes shut at the admission.

“Yeah, it’s ok, go ahead.” They rutted against each other, wild and boyish, headboard knocking against the wall ( _luckily Aishe wasn’t one for asking questions_ ) moans overlapping, heat building till it reached fever pitch and Billy was shouting through his orgasm.

Izzy almost sobbed for how _beautiful_ he was, how good he looked being consumed by pleasure. “Angel, I _—” love you_. But he never got to finish, because he was following closely behind Billy, burying his groan in silky red locks.

“Fuck.”

“Now you gotta take another shower.” He whispered, feeling almost boneless—and still somewhat unsatisfied. “And I’m almost certain my mom heard us, so fuck it all, tell me you’re staying tonight.”

“I don’t... fuck its late isn’t it?” He tried to shift from beneath Izzy, but the brunette wouldn’t let him. Going home now, after church, would just mean the revered would try something stupid while he was running hot from the service, and he wasn’t having that.

“Stay with me, baby. It’s almost midnight anyway.”

Billy relaxed; he barely went home nowadays anyway, damn the consequences. “Okay, but only because I don’t think my legs work anyway.”

\-----------

"Wow, ok." Duff cleared his throat, diverting his eyes. "You were both insatiable teenagers."

"After we finally got around to it, it was ridiculous." Izzy laughed, "We were _all_ over each other all the time. We did it in the chapel once."

Axl opened his eyes, barely able to make out an Izzy-shaped blob in his drunken state. "Izzy!!!" He crawled towards him on all fours,beaming happily. "Hey baby!"

Duff choked on air, watching in both horror and amusement as Axl climbed unto the brunette's lap. "Uhm... Axl.." He was drunk off his ass.

"Hello Izzy."

"What?" The brunette replied, tone a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

Axl smiled, cheeks rosy, eyes bright. His gypsy was here, that was all that mattered. "Hey Izzy, let's fuck." He stage whispered and attacked Izzy's lips with his own.

The brunette could only sit there, shocked by his Angel's actions, but then he was kissing back helplessly.

Slash all but hauled Axl off Izzy, thrusting him into Duff's arms. 

"No!!! Don't be angry at Gyp!" The redhead cried drunkenly, making grabby hands at the brunette. Why was the man growling at Izz? Glaring at him? Saying angry things?

"I like you fine, Izzy. And your story is touching and all." The guitarist said, "But don't think I wont kick your ass if you touch him like that again."

"What's that, sugar?" Izzy taunted. "He's the one who crawled unto _me." Besides, I'm only allowing you to have him, for now._

Slash ran his hands through his curls. "Whatever, _don't_ fuck with me. I don't _care_ if your souls were built from the same stuff, you _left_ him, and I put him back together."

Izzy blanched at that, guilt weighing him down,but only for a while. "Who the fuck do you think you _are?"_ His eyes searched Slash's face, smiling at the anger he saw there.

"I'm his boyfriend, and you're _not."_ Then he's throwing Axl over his shoulder, shoving past Izzy and stalking out.

"Bye Gyp!!!!!" Axl called, waving happily.

The brunette laughed, "Well this just got _interesting."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well now its time to fuck shit up again, enjoy :)


	7. Chapter 7

Axl woke up with a start, his pounding head a reminder to _never_ try to out drink Duff.

_What the fuck even happened last night?_

“Oh, you’re awake?” Slash’s voice came from somewhere to his left, groaning, Axl tried to find the fucker.

“Why’re you so loud?” No answer. “Slash, I’m cold.” And that usually earned him cuddles and chuckles, but he was met instead with silence. “Ok, what the fuck.” And then it hit him like a brick to the face, he’d fucked up, he had fucked up big time.

He scrambled up, stomach lurching dangerously at the sudden movement.

“Ah, I see you’ve caught up.” The brunette was perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, face blank.

Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. “Uhm…” He tried, rubbing at his chin. “I was drunk?”

“Hmph.” Slash’s expression didn’t change.

Axl tried again. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It sure _looked_ like you meant it.” The brunette stared him down, waiting patiently for a better answer.

“Jesus, Slash.” Axl sighed, fingers massaging his temples. “I was drunk, it was a mistake. Whaddaya want me to say?”

The guitarist blinked at him, “How about a fucking apology, first of all?”

Oh. Yeah. Fuck. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He lied, looking on everything except Slash. Well it wasn’t exactly a lie, he’s sorry Slash had to be there for that. “I was drunk, won’t happen again.”

Slash felt his chest tighten in the worse way possible; Axl had always been a terrible liar. “Ah, I see.”

The silence stretched on between them, Slash looked over at the redhead, hair sticking in every direction, sun shining on his pale skin. Axl looked at nothing at all, instead he squeezed his eyes shut and berated himself in his head.

 _Why’d it have to be Izzy, huh? They couldn’t have found another fucking rhythm guitarist or something?_ He couldn’t kid himself, it was a struggle being around his gypsy all the time without touching him, he felt his heart screaming for Izzy almost every second of everyday. But it was even more unbearable to watch Slash hurt like this, because he loved him—and that wasn’t the kind of person he was. He’s not a cheater. The kiss was a fucking mistake, he didn’t _regret_ it exactly, he licked the phantom taste of Izzy of his lips—God he’d tasted good—but he wouldn’t let it happen again, not while they were still together.

Slash was almost considering letting him go, Axl looked lost here. “If you want him… if you _need_ him like that…” He started, then broke off when a sudden surge of anger rose within him. There’s no way he’s giving up someone as important as Axl so easily, not without a fight.

“No, its not like that.” The redhead flopped backwards unto the bed, chewing on his lip. “I love you, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

Fuck.

Fuck, he wasn't thinking about Izzy's lips.

He _wasn't._

Slash chuckled, raw and humourless. “It better not, gingersnap. Or I swear to God I’ll kick his ass back to Nevada.”

Axl laughed, because wrong or not, that was something he’d like to see. “Huh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.” Slash smiled, “Now, you said something earlier about you being col—?”

Axl was already crawling into his arms.

\----------------------

That promise was utter bullshit and Axl should have known.

He walked unto the bus while the others were outside romping around a record store. Izzy was inside, curled up in the couch, reading one of Axl’s books and listening old records.

Nostalgia hit Axl like a punch to the stomach and nearly bowled him over. Don Williams' serene voice wafted through the speakers.

 _Silver coins that jingle jangle,_  
_Fancy shoes that dance in time_  
 _Oh, the secrets of her dark eyes,_  
 _They did sing a gypsy rhyme_

Axl swallowed, voice cracking when he asked “You still have those?”

“What? You thought I tossed them out?” The brunette laughed, lowering the book and patting the empty space beside him. “Your boyfriend let you off the hook?”

“Not in the least.” He murmured, sitting himself next to Izzy and trying to ignore his familiar cologne that was just demanding that he lean closer. “I was drunk, I’m sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.” He said softly, not mocking or smug—just a factual statement.

“No,” Axl whispered, finally admitting it out loud. “God Izzy, I’m _not.”_

 _I recall a gypsy woman_  
_Silver spangles in her eyes_  
 _Ivory skin against the moonlight,_  
 _And the taste of life's sweet wine._

Then it’s all there again, vivid flashes of him sneaking into Izzy’s room, getting caught by and exasperated Aishe. Izzy clambering into his room at the _worst_ fucking time, and sleeping over without anyone’s knowledge. The basement, their records (Aishe eventually just handed them over), their _first_ time.

“Why the fuck _did_ you come back here, huh?” Axl cried, sounding small and broken.

Izzy sighed and lowered the book, “Angel—”

“You left me first you idiot! Why’d you come back now?” He dragged in a ragged breath, probably to cuss Izzy out more, but he never made it that for because the brunette is leaning over and kissing him softly.

“Sssh…” He flicked his tongue against the redhead’s salty tears, leaving damp kisses in its wake. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m back now, and I won’t hurt you again.”

“We shouldn’t be,” he hiccuped, cheeks burning at the sound and Izzy’s warm chuckle. “We shouldn’t be kissing, you idiot. Slash will get mad.”

 _Fuck_ , Slash. This wasn't right.

“Ok.” The brunette pulled away and Axl was instantly annoyed that he was being so understanding. “I won’t kiss you anymore.”

“No.” It tumbled out before Axl could stop it, he clutched at Izzy’s shirtsleeve. “ _Never_ say that.” _I’m screwed, this is all going to shit and I’m so fucking screwed. God, I can’t even imagine having him this close and not being able to kiss him._ “Just kisses, nothing more.” That sounded unconvincing even to him.

“I don’t wanna hurt Sugar.” Izzy said, stroking Axl’s still-damp cheek. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He’d rather take off again, but he didn't add that. Axl wouldn’t like it.

“It’d hurt if you stopped.” His voice was firm but his chin trembled, “So… just this. We can have _only_ this.”

“Ok, Angel. Just this.”

Stupidest decision they had ever made.

\----------------------------

They all gathered on the couch much later, all a bit sleepy and restless, silently waiting on Axl to begin.

Axl glanced at them, he trusted them. But this, this was different. He hadn't even told Duff this yet, or Izzy. “You have to promise… that none of you will freak out.” _Or treat me any differently for it-_ but that might have been too much to ask, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Axl, we wont." Steven said earnestly, frowning a bit. "We'd never."

The redhead nodded.

The boys waited.

He wasn't ready, he needed to be sure. “Izzy you _gotta_ promise you won’t hate me.” He pleaded, nervously fiddling with his reading glasses.

“I can’t hate you.” He resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, Slash was watching him closely.

“ _Promise_.” He insisted, brows furrowed.

“Okay, Angel.” Izzy replied easily. “I promise I won’t hate you, though the very idea is insane.”

“Okay, uhm.” He sighed, glancing over at Slash before he begun. “It was supposed to be our first time together, I was er… getting myself ready…”

Duff chuckled, “Awww.”

The redhead’s face flamed, “Ugh, shut up. Anyway, I was getting ready when I heard Amy come in…”

\-----------------------------

**Past**

Billy was just about to lose his damn mind, he sat in the bath till the hot water went lukewarm, scrubbing and scrubbing and soaking and praying he didn’t somehow mess anything up.

He’d ask Izzy to make love to him today; he _was_ sixteen (that was old enough, right? That’s the age of consent and all.) Stephen was god knows where, Sharon was watching some reality show downstairs and the kids were out. He had the whole top floor to himself; the peace and quiet was a divine.

He finally got out, smelling so fucking good he had to pause and sniff himself, bursting into giggles when his eyes caught his reflection in the mirror. _God,_ he was fucking stupid, skipping about acting like a teenage girl.

“Fuck it all to hell, I get to be happy sometimes right?” He murmured to his reflection as he towelled his hair dry. Once he was done with his hair (and fuck that took forever), he went to sort out his clothes. (because of he was gonna get fucked, he had to look absolutely fuckable)

He wiggled into those pants that Izzy loved (he'd whisper as much to Billy almost every time he wore them), which just happened to be Stephen’s least favourite: “You look like a goddamn tramp!” (or so he claimed, even though his eyes tracked Bill wherever he went when he put them on)

He pulled on a tattered Queen tee and Izzy’s leather jacket that smelled just like him, it never ceased to make him smile. _Oh God this was finally happening_. He brushed his hair till it shone, shaking it loose the way Izzy liked (and Stephen hated because his hair was getting ‘too damn long’ and he clearly needed a haircut.) Finally, he reached for the necklace Izzy had given him, a charm, he said, something that represented them.

The redhead felt a thrill pass through him when he ran his fingers over the ivory pendant, this was theirs, just something for them both. Stephen hated that too, couldn’t stand to see Billy wear it, classed it as witchcraft and that he should stay away from that damn heathen.

Billy laughed, head tossed back, teeth gleaming in the sunlight. “Bullshit, old man. If he’s gonna burn, I’m burning with him.” His gloating is interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming and footsteps barrelling up the stairs. Amy’s room door slammed, and Billy could hair choking sobs through the thin walls.

Heart racing, he rushed into the passage and knocked gingerly on her door. “Amy? Amy what’s wrong?” Stephen wasn’t even home, who the hell else would be tormenting her.

The sobbing quieted quickly and Billy threw the door open, seriously worried now. Amy was curled up on her bed, dress streaked with dirt, hair bow hanging lopsided on her hair. “Amy, Ames what’s wrong?”

She lifted her little face from her hands, she looked miserable. “They keep fucking _picking_ on me!” She cried, little body shaking. She rarely swore, he was seriously concerned now.

“What happened?” He knew about the bullying, knew that kids pointed at her scars and bruises and laughed her to scorn. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, he’s pretty sure he’d land himself in trouble for rubbing some shitty eleven year old’s nose in the dirt, but that was the only option he could think of.

Amy wasn’t a fighter, but he sure as fuck lived and breathed it and the whole goddamn town knew.

“They took my bag,” she stuttered, cheeks splotchy. “Dumped all my books and tossed my bag in the river, said it was trash.” It was Billy’s old bag from elementary school, neither Stephen or Sharon cared about providing her with one for school so he had stitched his old one in the places that were torn (managing to jab himself with the needle like a million times, if Aishe wasn’t there to help he might have seriously injured himself.)

“Fuck.” He muttered, noticing her sparse school supplies tossed on the bed.

“Billy, I aint got no friends. It’s not fair!” She wailed, rubbing at her eyes angrily. “They girls won’t talk to me just cause—” Amy hesitated, words hovering there in the air uncertainly.

“Because what?” Billy prodded, walking over to her small bed and setting himself down.

“Cause I’m not like them, I _never_ eat lunch,” She said bitterly. “I _never_ come to class parties, I _never_ wear anything new really, I _never_ threw any sort of birthday party and I'm always bruised. I’m not _rude_ to them, honest. I don’t _mean_ to be this way.” She was crying again by the time she finished.

Billy sighed, fighting back a string of curses and stinging tears. One thing at a time. “Why’s your dress dirty?”

She looked down as if seeing it for the first time, “Oh, they pushed me down in order to get to my bag.” She shrugged, “It don't hurt much, but now I aint got no school bag—”

The redhead swallowed and tried desperately not to get too angry at that confession. “What do you mean you have no lunch? Can’t you grab something in the mornings?”

She blinked, “There hasn’t been food in here for a while, Bill. There’s nothing to grab, and Pa never left mom any money or anything.”

Bill buried his face in his hands and chuckled, wasn’t this just a bitch of a situation? “No food, no lunch money, no fucking bag, no sensible parents—Jesus _Christ_ Ames.” Weren't they just living the dream?

“Billy…” Her voice wavered, she placed a small hand on his shoulders. “It aint no big deal, I was bawling like an idiot for nothing. It’s not like it’s the first week I’ve gone without—”

“You _shouldn’t_ have to. You shouldn’t have to starve so that fucktard can drink the money, you shouldn’t be bullied either.” He sprung up, already formulating a plan in his head. “Go get cleaned up, I’ll sort this out. I’m walking you to school tomorrow, I’m gonna have a _word_ with these kids.”

“Billy…” she whined.

“Go clean up, I’ll figure it out.” He commanded, with more confidence than he felt. He found Sharon downstairs staring dazedly at the television screen, eyes unseeing and flat. “Mom.”

She slowly looked up at him, well, more like at the spot over his shoulder.

“Your daughter is hungry.”

She looked guilty for about half a second before it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Well, I don’t _work_ Axl." _And whose fucking fault is that, Sharon?_ "There’s gotta be something in the house.”

“There’s nothing in the house. Stephen didn’t leave money.” He snapped.

She faltered for a while, before she got up like it pained her to, and went to find her purse. She came back with a crumpled fifty in her grasp, “It was for offering on Sunday and—”

He snatched it and stalked out before she could babble more _bullshit_ about the church and God. He shopped around, managed to get enough food for to last for a while (maybe the week if they were lucky). He trekked up the stairs with the bag of groceries and shoved them into Amy’s hand.

“Lunch.” He grunted, burying a smile in her hair when she threw her arms around him.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Sure, whatever.” His eyes landed on her supplies again, “Amy…where are the rest of your stuff?”

“Hmm?” She whirled around to look at her books, than let out a little distressed sound. “Oh no! I’m missing some, they must have dumped ‘em too.” All the colour drained from her face. “Billy… Billy daddy’s gonna _kill_ me!” And he would, he checked everything. He lined them up and checked for homework, for notes, you don’t come into the house without something you left with (or with anything extra).

“Tell him they got stolen.”

“I’ll get whipped anyway.” She wrung her hands, and the gesture was so much like Sharon, Billy reached out to stop her. “The _brand_ _new_ crayons he got for me are gone too, _fuck_ I’m dead.”

“Don’t worry,” He didn’t know what he was saying. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.” She had suffered enough for the day (for her fucking life, actually).

“You aint got no money left—”

“Amy, _shut up_ , let me sort it out.” He was running down the stairs again, because this was a fucking emergency. He’d show up soon, to get ready for service. He hopped on his bike and rode like the wind to the nearest convenience store. Fuck, what were they gonna do? Stephen wouldn’t take it easy on her, he had been in a very bad mood all week—there was not a night that Sharon’s muffled screams didn’t keep him awake.

He stopped outside Carl’s, shoes skidding in the rubble. He leaned his bike against the building before jogging inside, he wouldn’t be staying long. It was a slow day (as it always was in Lafayette Indiana), no one was behind the counter, not an uncommon sight. He circled the store, looking at the prices of shit he couldn’t afford, fuck, he had shoplifted before—but not anything important.

This was important, and his brain kept reminding him _“Stephen is coming home soon”_ , taking a deep breath he took a look around before slipping a pack of Crayolas into Izzy’s jacket.

No one say, someone came to the register now, it wasn’t Carl.

He held out his hands, they were shaking, _Get the books, just get the fucking books._ Luckily, the books were further away from the counter; he was able to slip two beneath Izzy’s bulky jacket without the lady noticing. Sighing, he headed towards the exit almost running, the girl doesn’t spare him a glance. He’s almost there when Carl walked down the stairs form his office, stairs creaking as he smiled his sleazy smile.

“Billy!”

“Hello, Carl.”

“How’s the family?”

 _Fucked up_. “They’re fine, I’m kinda in a rush to get back so—”

“Are ya? Or are you in a rush to get _away_ from me?”

Billy shifted his weight around, alarm bells going off in his head. “Pardon?”

“Why don’t you come up to my office and explain yourself, boy.”

“Wha—”

“I saw what you did.” And that was that, there was no use in denying it further, Billy briefly considered running, but that wouldn’t make sense. Stephen would definitely hear about that. So he followed him, against his better instinct.

The first thing he noticed about the office was the size—small, clustered, fucking depressing looking, not to mention the bad lighting. The second, the picture on the wall of the smiling girl. His daughter? .The third? How Creepy looked like he fit in perfectly.

“Empty your pockets.” He asked politely, still smiling, and still Billy remained on edge.

Billy couldn’t imagine anyone _willingly_ having a child with the man

 _Maybe she wasn’t so willing._ He shuddered at the ugly thought.

“ _Two_  notebooks, Crayola? What’s this—” He scoffed at the contents of Billy’s jacket “—boy? This shit is what you tried for?”  Carl sounded almost disappointed, like he was a second away from clicking his tongue and wagging his finger.

Billy didn’t reply.

“Now why would you need this stuff?” He raised a brow, grin still plastered in place. Billy never wanted to punch anyone more.

“For my sister.” Honesty was the best policy right? “For school.”

“Well aint that touchin’? Almost got me teary eyed.” Billy gritted his teeth, glancing off to the side. “Care to tell me how you’ll pay? Because you  _will_...”

More silence. Billy shifted in his chair, because fuck, was this thing _made_ to be uncomfortable? On purpose?

Carl fingered the wire of the phone on his desk, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Should I call your  _father_ , Billy?”

“No, please don’t.” He heard himself say it, mouth moving without his permission, driven by fear alone. “I’ll do  _anything_.”  And there it was, the moment that would haunt him for years to come. The moment Carl’s slimy grin widened impossibly further, the moment he finally got where this all was going.

“I’m sure we can think of something.” Billy was almost certain he could feel his heart cracking into a million pieces, this _wasn’t_ how it was supposed to go. Carl got up and circled Billy, leaning down to sniff his hair. The redhead tried not to scream, he knew he could knock the skinny little man down with one punch, but he was in a sense, powerless against him. He and the revered were friends, that would not end well for anyone involved.

“You smell good boy, I thought whores were supposed to be filthy.” He laughed, rough and grating.

Billy wanted to whimper and curl in on himself, but Carl would fucking feed on that, so he sat there, staring blankly ahead at the photograph. Then Carl’s bony fingers were digging into his shoulder.

“Very good, boy.” There it was again, boy. He spoke like Billy wasn’t even a person, just another one of his boys. “Bend over the Desk”

Billy’s body moved by itself, he wasn’t here, as far as he was concerned this wasn’t fucking happening. He couldn’t cry, or scream or make any sound, the only sound was Carl’s laboured breaths and the squeak of the table.

He couldn't do this to him, he shouldn't be fucking able to. Some God they had.

“So tight, boy. I’d never _believe_ you were a slut.” He smelled like tobacco and grease. Not at all like Izzy.

He couldn’t force his mind to go far away enough, the squeaking table and the flickering lights always brought him back. The smiling girl in the picture anchored him there, she was a constant reminder of where he was and exactly what was happening.

The pain was impossible, but he could handle it. Carl really wasn’t that big, he wanted to laugh of that, but he feared the sound of his own voice would make it all too real.

“Yer so slick,” he panted, breath tickling the back of Billy’s neck. “Were you prepping for me? This how you planned to pay all along?” He chuckled, then broke of sharply, bony hips slapping against Bill. Before long, his rhythm faltered then gave way all together, and Billy’s heart heaved a sigh of relief. He had barely pulled out (and fuck that stung like a bitch) before the redhead was snatching the items and limping out of the office.

He could hear Carl’s mocking laughter following closely behind him, “Come visit again, ya hear?”

The ride home was hard, looking Amy in the face when he deposited the supplies on her bed was even harder. Cleaning himself in the bathroom was the hardest of all, he didn’t cry, or scream or slit his own throat like he wanted to. Just washed himself, then washed back there, tried to get himself clean (not that that was possible after fucking Carl had laid hands on him).

He took off his “nice” clothes and curled up with Izzy’s leather jacket, only then did he allow himself to break. He shuddered and shook and fell apart, tears scorching his cheeks, the smell of Izzy taunting him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s not—”

He screamed in his head, louder and louder, closed his eyes and tried to pretend this evening had never happened.

“It _never_ happened.”

He didn’t pick up the phone when Izzy called—and he knew it was Izzy, because who else called him? He didn’t go downstairs for dinner and no one tried to convince him to attend evening service (not since he got older anyway—everyone seemed to give up on him).

“This never happened.” He repeated voice flat and toneless. “This never fucking happened.”

And as far as Izzy was concerned, it never did, because Billy never once mentioned it.

\----------------------------

**Present**

Axl was shaking badly by the time he got through and Slash was holding him tightly, murmuring soothing tings in his ear. “It never happened.” Axl said, eyes distant. Izzy would hate him now.

“Axl calm down, I don’t hate you.” Izzy assured him, blatantly ignoring what was the really issue. He wanted to howl and curse and rage, but he had to be strong for his Angel. “I _hate_ Carl, it wasn’t your fault—”

“You don’t get it!” Axl wailed, crying openly now.

“What?” His mind was fumbling and trying desperately to piece itself together. He was fucked, he was angry and confused and so fucking sorry that he hadn’t seen it. “What is it then?” He already knew of course, but he didn’t want to think of it.

“Our first time…” The redhead dreaded saying it, “He fucking stole it from us, I was saving myself for you.” He must sound pathetic, because Slash was squeezing him impossibly tighter and Duff was crying into Steven’s shoulder. “He stole it and I _lied_ to you, you weren’t my first—” He stopped talking when he noticed it had finally sunk in.

Izzy looked gutted, his mouth opened and closed. Then his shoulders slumped. He felt sick, not because he wasn’t his Angel’s first (he was pretty peeved about that, but it wasn’t his priority), but _Carl_ … Carl was on his list and that didn’t spell anything good for him. “Well, am I the first person you made _love_ with?”

“Yeah but—”

“He didn’t fucking _count_. I was your first and you were mine—fuck him!” He hissed, he hauled Axl away from Slash and the guitarist let him go, this was their pain and they had to figure it out themselves. “You never had to hide it from me, Angel. Fuck, I’m so dumb, I thought you never showed up because you didn’t want me. That sick fuck.”

“I’ll _never_ not want you.” There it was, finally out in the air. No one could attack him for it, or hold it against him.

“Yeah well, _ditto.”_ He kissed Axl’s cheek, avoiding his lips with herculean effort. “Damn him, damn him to _hell,_ he’ll get what’s coming to him.” Izzy calmly made a reminder to call Aishe later, Carl won’t know just what hit him. _I mean, who the fuck crosses a gypsy?_  Izzy hummed, rubbing Axl's back, already plotting his next move.


	8. Chapter 8

Izzy waited till midnight to call home, when he was sure all the boys were asleep. He had watched Axl sleep, the redhead often made distressed little whimpers causing Izzy to reach out and stroke his hair, mumbling nonsense just to make him know Izzy was close.

_Yeah, but you’re never close when you need to be._

Slash got up at some point to check on Axl and saw Izzy standing there in the near darkness.

“Is he alright?” His voice shook, hands clenched at his sides. 

“I’m making sure of it.” He replied, tone weary. He was glad enough someone else cared about his angel as much as he. "Don't worry."

Slash had hesitated like he wanted to say more, and then returned to his bunk with a sigh. Izzy wasn’t sure what to say to him either, so he let it go.

Now he sat on the couch in the dark, eerily calm, plotting.

“Aishe, I need you to do me a favour.” He rarely ever asked, but it was necessary.

The woman paused, the hour of the call and the tone of her son did nothing to soothe her. “In the middle of the night dear?”

“It has to be.” His words were clipped and cold, he knew that she understood.

“Jeffrey, what is the meaning of what you’re asking? Why are you?” Her accent thickened, her words cautious.

He gave her just what she asked for, his reasons, keeping his voice flat, listening to her shuddering sobs at the end. He didn’t cry, wouldn’t allow himself to right now, maybe he would cry on her shoulder when he saw her next month, but now? No tears.

“Izzy... Jeff.” She cried, “I am _truly_ very sorry, my love.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He shuddered at the sound of her voice soaked with rage, at how it _crackled_ like lightning in his ear, made powerful by something older than time itself. “You take him back, ya hear? You take him back and bring my son home to _me_.”

He closed his eyes, feeling calmer than he had in the past few hours. “Yes.”

It had to be done.

Aishe left without a goodbye and Izzy sat there till dawn, eyes still closed and his mother’s words flashing in neon behind his lids.

**“You _take_ him back, ya hear? You take him back and bring my son home to me.”**

\---------------------------------------

“Just three more shows to go,” Steven groaned, swiping at his sweaty face with a towel. It was a great show, but a tiring one nonetheless. Drumming for two and a half hours wasn’t as fun as he made it look.

“Yeah…” Axl muttered, dreading visiting Indiana _again_. “We hit the road again tomorrow, huh?” Amy had phoned earlier to explain that they were already in Lafayette, staying at some hotel and eagerly awaiting their arrival. Axl knew without a doubt that she went early to visit Stephen, still unable to completely shake his hold on her, but at least Sarah was there.

Slash rubbed at his eyes, sweating profusely. “Can we please get back into the AC.”

Axl nodded, limp hair spilling across his forehead, fuck why was it so hot anyway? “I second that.”

The bus ride to the hotel was probably the most awkward thing Axl had ever experienced. He sat between Slash and Izzy, saying not a word to either of them. He hadn’t touched Izzy after that kiss last time, partially because he was almost always wrapped around either Duff or Steven and because every time he imagined touching Izzy memories of Slash stopped him.

He hadn’t really touched Slash either, because every time he did, it felt like cheating on Izzy—which was fucking ridiculous since THEY WEREN’T IN A RELATIONSHIP, but his heart and his soul _refused_ to accept that.

“Ok wow, if this gets anymore awkward, I’ll throw myself out a window.” Steven commented, leg bouncing rapidly. “Seriously, you’d think we were five strangers, sitting around and failing at conversation.”

Duff snorted and smacked his hand. “You never know when to shut up huh?”

Axl watched the drummer carefully, the little jitters that would run through him and how he was hugging himself tightly. “Yeah well, what can I say, I’m bored.”

They got back to the hotel and wandered in and out of each other’s rooms, taking showers, stealing clothes—the usual. Once Slash and Axl were alone however, the tension tripled.

The guitarist cleared his throat, amazed that they’d somehow gotten to this point. “Wanna go out?”

“Now?” Axl looked over his glasses at the drizzle outside. “In the rain?”

“Yeah, unless you’re like... busy or anything.” And fuck, why did he feel like a teenager asking his crush out all over again, nervous and unsure.

“No, no.” The redhead shut his book, “I’m not, let’s go.” Slash allowed him to grab his jacket, smiling a little at how silly they had been behaving in recent weeks.

Once in the lobby, Axl stared uncertainly out at the rain that was coming a little harder now “Wanna grab an umbrella?” Luckily it was late, there was no sight of the paparazzi, he wasn’t sure he could manage all that in his current state.

“Weren’t you just complaining about being hot?” The brunette snorted, grin lopsided. _“Pussy.”_ He pulled his hood over his wild curls and walked out leaving a spluttering Axl behind. The redhead jogged to catch up with the man, squinting against the sting of the rain.

“Well _excuse_ me for being concerned about your health.” He said, rolling his eyes when the brunette starts cackling.

“You sound like my mother,” Slash slowed so they were side by side. He’s not sure he knows just where he’s going because he’s never been to Ohio before, but they’re in the city, how lost can they get? “It’s fucking terrifying.”

There was a mischievous gleam in Axl’s eyes, “I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

Slash gasped theatrically, clutching at his imaginary pearls. “You fucking _wouldn’t.”_

Actually, he would.

Axl laughed helplessly, resting a hand on Slash’s arm to steady himself. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Mr. Serial killer?”

The brunette grinned, memories of their banter resurfacing. “I guess it’s an adventure.”

“Hmm… mysterious.” The redhead wriggled his brows comically, looping their arms together. The rain didn’t actually come any harder, and though he knew he’s probably get sick as fuck, it was relaxing. The city was a bit quieter at this hour, and they strolled hand in hand till they got to a little restaurant, nestled in the corner of some random street.

It was almost empty, and surprisingly still open. A waiter offered them seats in the furthest corner and soon they were sitting there in comfortable silence, staring out at the quiet street. Occasionally someone would pass by, and they’d struggle to make up stories about that person’s life and what they were doing out.

“Clearly that man,” Axl jabbed his finger at an old man, dressed in a finely tailored suit. “Is a drug dealer.”

Slash rolled his eyes, “Axl, you’ve been saying that about everyone that has passed.”

“If there’s a demand, there’s a supply.” He shrugged and dug into his food, he wrinkled his nose as he chewed.

“It isn’t good?”

“Spicy.” He took a long gulp of his water, face flaming.

Slash was grinning in that way that did things to him again “Pussy.”

“Oh you little _shit_.” Slash outright _laughed_ in his face. No fucking way. “Dare me to eat it.”

“I’m not daring you to do anything, _kid_.” The brunette took a dainty sip of his wine, knowing exactly how to push Axl’s buttons. “You either can or you can’t.”

“I’m fucking twenty four!” He took another bite and winced, bristling when Slash noticed and snickered.

“That’s _adorable_.” And apparently Slash was still intent on lording the whole ‘I’m a few years older than you’ thing over him—Axl isn’t sure why he’s surprised.

In the end, he gave up and settled for eating out of a very amused Slash’s plate, “Could you gloat any louder?” He went on to prove that, yes, he in fact could.

About an hour later they’re back on the streets, the rain stopped, but the place was still a whole lot cooler. Slash started humming Sweet Emotion (horribly off-key) and there was really not much to do about that except join him. This morphed into them twirling wildly around on the sidewalk hand in hand, earning confused looks from the few people who passed.

Axl ignored them and twirled, hair fanning out behind him, hands tossed above his head. His ‘princess twirl’, Slash liked to call it.

“I do say, Princess.” Slash said, in a British accent that sounded too fucking authentic. “You dance beautifully.”

Axl bowed gracefully, thrilling when the brunette howls with laughter. “I must thank you for inviting me to your ball, kind Prince. I do adore them so.”

Slash raised his brow, “What's that? You like my balls?” Axl thought that totally warranted him chasing Slash down the street, footfalls loud in the stillness.

“You get the fuck back here you _perv_!” Axl yelled, almost out of breath from running, shouting and laughing all at once, performing for two hours was much easier than this. He tripped over something and went careening into Slash, he could feel the deep rumble of his laughter where his face was pressed against him.

“Shit, Rosie.” He whispered, clutching his shoulders and righting him gently. “You’re the clumsiest princess I know.” Slash wasn’t one to talk, his hair was fucking everywhere and Axl had no idea how he managed that since it had been in a ponytail when they left, but his afro was exploding in every direction. He probably lost during their high speed chase, he was almost glowing under the city lights, skin tinted in swirling colors from the neon sign for that sleazy looking nightclub above them.

“Slash?” Axl swallowed, “Slash, could you just…” Slash blinked at him, tilting his head (like Izzy liked to) and chewing on his lip.

“I’m sorry, was that a complete sentence?” He teased, laughing when Axl scowled in the least intimidating way possible. “Princess, when you tripped, did you lose half your vocabulary—”

Axl didn’t allow him to finish that jab since he was kissing the words from his mouth, relishing the feel of Slash’s soft lips beneath his, how he tasted of whatever chocolate monstrosity he’d had for dessert. Slash let him, hands slipping to his waist, pulling the redhead flush against him, following Axl’s lead because God, he wanted _so_ much. It had been so long, the tense silences and awkward conversations had somehow wedged itself between them and they hadn’t had time for themselves with all the touring.

“Slash,” Axl pulled away, cheeks flushed. Slash pulled him back, because maybe he was a little needy and he didn’t actually want it to end so soon.  The redhead had to tip a little, so close to his man a sheet of paper couldn’t fit between them, he could feel Slash, hard against him, through his unholy leather pants. He pulled away again. “Slash, I have a confession.”

The brunette whimpered, “Can it fucking wait?”

“I think it’s really important to your cause.” Axl huffed out an amused breath when Slash begun to suck kisses unto his neck, and that’d probably leave a mark, their manager would probably be salty about it—but so what? It’s not his fault the man wasn’t getting laid.

“Ok…” He was trying to listen, he was. But Axl smelled so good, what the fuck did he shower with, unicorn piss? Hm... that probably wouldn't smell good.

“You were right about Princess Axl,” He mumbled, Slash pulled away and blinked in confusion. “He does like your balls, and he’d really like to suck you off in that alley over there.” Axl punctuated his sentence with an angelic smile, Slash let go of him, bent double and started laughing so hard Axl actually worried about his heart.

“You are a fucking _filthy_ piece of shit—”

“Yes.” Axl grabbed his hand, yanking him into the shady alley. “I’m shitty, bratty , petty, trashy and pretty starved for dick. Now would you _please_ stand still and get your dick sucked?”

 _How does one reject such an offer?_ “It’s hard to believe you were a choir boy.” Slash mused, watching with a pounding heart as Axl fiddled with his belt.

“Yeah, well—” His hands were shaking, he was basically _gagging_ for it. If only his choir director could see him now. “Jesus fuck, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO _COMPLICATED_?” And that might have sounded desperate and depraved, but he hadn’t tasted Slash in _weeks_ and he was having serious withdrawal symptoms.

The brunette laughed, a little strained because he needed this just as badly, and helped Axl out, groaning when the pressure eased up and Axl’s hands were wrapping around his erection. “Its complexity is to deter depraved Princesses from— _fuck_ —” _sucking my soul through my dick._

God, had it really been that long? Because he’s not supposed to get worked up _this_ fast.

Axl wasn’t listening, because he was too busy _dragging_ his hot tongue up the underside of Slash’s cock, flicking it against the tip and moaning at the taste of him after so fucking long.

“Tell me you’re not gonna talk through the _whole_ thing.” Axl murmured, lips brushing against Slash, tongue darting out to catch every drop of precum. Sighing happily at the taste he missed so much that was uniquely Slash, either Axl’s senses were skewered, or Slash was made wholly of sugar (or fed on fucking pineapples) because he tasted _sweet_.

Slash’s legs actually _trembled_ , but he attempted to keep his cool. “Commentary makes for _great_ feedback—” Axl’s mouth was sliding down his cock, hot, slick and so fucking perfect that he momentarily lost his train of thought.

 Not for long though, “Jee-ee-sus kid, I need to take you to dinner more often.”

Axl laughed (and he felt it _all_ over) around Slash’s cock and the brunette _curled_ forward swearing a blue streak, sinking a hand in Axl’s hair because he needed something (anything) to anchor him. The redhead cupped Slash’s balls in a warm palm, gently rolling them around, tugging on them the way he liked, working his cock like a paid whore.

And maybe he was at some point, but he wasn’t going there.

“Uhm, Axl.” Slash keened, hips bucking, gasping when Axl just _takes_ it. “Should we maybe slow down?”

Axl pulled off, resting against Slash’s thigh and giggling, and the sound of his voice should be banned in Slash’s humble opinion. “You think it’s easy to squat here? I’m too old for this shit man.” He continued tugging on Slash’s throbbing length, applying the perfect amount of pressure that he just knew would fuck the brunette _all_ the way up.

“Should have probably thought this through, huh?” He muffled his laughter in his hand when Axl makes a face. “Oh my God, what if someone _sees_ us?” He hadn’t even considered that.

“They’ll see you getting your dick sucked proper in an alley.” Slash’s laughter dissolved into a choked off moan, because Axl was sucking him down again, nose brushing his pubes, making the most unholy sounds Slash has ever heard that just served to push him to the edge faster.

This wasn’t fair to him.

Who the fuck allowed Axl Rose to exist?

“Princess, I can’t—” Axl felt Slash’s cock twitch where it was lodged in his throat and pulled off, working the shaft while sucking on the tip, dying for a taste. “ _Fuck_!” He’s shooting into Axl’s mouth, eyes clenched shut, breath momentarily leaving his lungs.

The redhead eagerly drank him down, almost sobbing in relief, kept trying to coax more out somehow, long after he’d stopped giving. “Axl… please.” He whimpered, way too sensitive for this kind of torture. The redhead pulled off with a little sigh, tucking him back in and leaving him to sort out his maze of a belt.

Slash tugged him into a kiss, licking the taste of himself from the Axl’s mouth, laughing when he pressed his erection against his leather-clad thigh, whining. “Want me to return the favour?” He palmed the straining fabric, licking his lips at the thought of Axl hot and heavy on his tongue.

“I _want_ you to take me home,” He mumbled, “And fuck me against the wall.”

“Wow… ok,” He swallowed. “I am way too old for these strenuous activities, but ok.”

They more or less ran back to the hotel, laughter echoing on the streets, and for once, they were both at peace.

\---------------------

It wasn’t ever easy coming back, but now that he had _both_ Slash and Izzy, it was… different.

 Not easier, just _different_.

 Slash had been there before and hated it with a passion, Izzy was acting strange (and he wouldn’t tell Axl what the fuck was going on in his head). Duff and Steven all looked excited to see just where the hell their eccentric frontman grew up, but a bit apprehensive too, because it was clear his childhood was nothing short of horrifying at times.

On the bright side, they wouldn’t be performing in Lafayette—the shitty little town probably never heard of them anyway. Indianapolis was a nice little distance away from that shithouse.

On the down side, He had to go back anyway, he wanted to see Stu, Amy, Tammy, Sarah and most of all Aishe. That woman was the closest thing to a mother that he ever had, and there was no way he’d be here for a few days without dropping by.

Funnily enough, he had never actually been to Indianapolis before, the only time he left his small town was when he hauled ass out of it at seventeen.

“You nervous?” Slash asked, wrapping his arms around him.

“Fucked all the way up man.” Axl replied, laughing it off.

“I got you.”

“I know.” Izzy’s watching them, and he felt guilty all over again. Slash must have sensed it, because he laughed and squeezed Axl tighter. Izzy raised a brow, smiled a little and turned his attention back to Duff. The redhead _ached_ to know what was going on in his head.

They made it to the hotel, and Axl is fucking shocked at the crowds that gathered, scores of people screaming his name and waving signs around. The click of the cameras was almost deafening, but he kept a brave face, spinning in a complete circle, trying to wave at everyone.

Izzy brushed against him, “You look like a fucking retard.”

Axl very carefully doesn’t laugh. “So do you,” he replied. “And your hat is _stupid_.”

The brunette chuckles, “Really, Angel? That’s all you got? Your little boyfriend fucked all your attitude away?” He hummed, “Maybe I should try him.”

Axl swallowed, “You’re a son of a bitch ya know?”

“But I’m _your_ son of a bitch.” And no amount of willpower he had could prevent his insides from going all warm and gooey at those words. He shook his head and walked off, not daring to look behind him, lest he be reeled in.

After all the fuss has quieted and the media has had its fill, the boys order an excessive amount of alcohol (because none of them had actually learned their lessons) and drank themselves almost into a stupor.

“Ya know—” Duff slurred, trying to ‘unpants’ himself (as he always does when he’s drunk), “You still haven’t told us about your first time yet!”

“You reeeeeeally haven’t.” Steven nodded enthusiastically, trying to help Duff (by pulling the pants back on—how long will it take them to see that that wouldn’t work?). He was so far gone, clearly on something else, but no one was sober enough to realize. “We’re gagging for it man.”

“Yeah,” Slash agreed, he’s got a hand on the glass coffee table, staring at his reflection like it means something. “I mean, think of happy things now right?”

Izzy was drunk, but he was pretty much himself. Axl felt a surge of jealousy, how did he even do that? “Were you _happy_ , Angel?”

“What the fuck do you think?” He hiccuped, liquor loosening his tongue. “Didn’t I cum?”

“ _Twice_.” And that’s the final straw, Axl is waddling over to Izzy and high-fiving his face while the man snickers. “And you cried like a baby.” It was muffled but Axl was almost certain everyone heard that.

“Yeah, well, so did you!” He spluttered, red in the face, lurching dangerously over the brunette.

 Izzy smiled, warm and welcoming, “Yeah, I did.”

“Awwwww!” Duff cooed, finally out of his pants, staring at them both with heart eyes. “Yer so cute.”

Izzy’s skin is warm against his palm, his hair mussed up, hat knocked to the side. Axl had never wanted to kiss someone more.

 _‘Nonono! Don’t kiss the gypsy boy.’_ His mind drunkenly reminded him, and Axl had a legitimate problem remembering just _why_ exactly he shouldn’t be kissing his gyp? Why would anyone not be?

“Tell us.” Duff growled, trying to pull off Steven’s pants now.

“My head is fucked.” Axl sighed, plopping down beside (mostly on) Izzy, yawning a bit. He probably shouldn’t be drinking this much, it would probably fuck up his voice. But he was feeling warm and happy and his voice was the last thing on his mind.

“We can tell it together.” And wasn’t Izzy a fucking genius? Axl gasped softly, eyes widening comically and Izzy let out an honest to god giggle because _only_ Axl could pull that off.

“Yeah we can.”

“Fine.”

“Uh huh.” He shot back, just to say something.

“Right on.”

“Yepperoni.”

“The more things you say, the less cool you become.”

Axl pouted, fine. Have it your way. “Enjoy telling most of the—hiccup—story then, asswipe. Anyway, we finally got around to doing the nasty one night in the summer man.”

“It was spring.”

“Same thing. So I go over ta his house, after the whole—” He gestured vaguely with his beer “—thing. And Aishe’s gone cause she got a new job at…”

“The telephone company.”

“Right, what he said. So I go over all nice, snuck out of my own house to go get fucked—”

“Hey at least I walked you home… the next er… Morning?”

“Think it was like, midfive.” That didn’t make sense, but Izzy let it pass. “It was… well it sure was _something_ …”

“EXPLAIN IT THEN.” Steven demanded, frowning adorably. “It’s almost bedtime, we need a story!”

Izzy sighed, “Fine…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cant have two nice scenes in one chapter :) Nuh-uh


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aplogize in advance for... whatever this chapter is.  
> *drops it at your feet, flees*

**Past, Indiana**

Izzy let Billy in through the front door, holding it open and allowing him to walk (more like stumble) in looking slightly terrified.

“Good night.” He said, standing behind Izzy, holding himself a bit stiffly.

The brunette just rolled his eyes, “Christ, Bill, it’s just me.” The redhead chuckled awkwardly, trailing behind him.

“Yeah, I know…It’s just that—” He shrugged, biting at his nail. “It’s important.”

“Yeah, but it’s just _us_.” Izzy replied, voice soft. Billy finally started to get it now, or so it appeared, since he was blushing up a storm.

“Yeah ok.” He more or less nose-dived unto Izzy’s bed (it smelled like them both), spread-eagle and unashamed. “Butt sex time!”

The brunette guffawed, shoving him over till they was space for them both. _“Classy.”_

“I never _claimed_ to be classy, you hippie.” He replied, words muffled in the sheets.

“Keep that attitude, and I send you home without laying a finger on you.”

Billy rolled unto his side, staring up at Izzy from under his lashes. “Oh Yeah? Like you can keep your hands off me.”

Well, that was fair. Even now that they were pressed this closely together, Izzy was resisting the urge to pull his Angel into his arms and kiss him till he forgot how to breathe. “Yeah well… whatever.”

Billy’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline, “Guess I’ll drag my fine ass outta here.” He flailed about in an attempt to get up, but Izzy yanked him back down, throwing a leg over his hip in an attempt to pin him. This dissolved into them rolling around, wrestling and giggling.

Izzy felt like he would die of happiness, Billy was here with him, skinny and awkward and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, his every movement artful, his laughter music.

“Are you wearing my jacket?” The brunette choked out around his laughter.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“I… I’m not sure. Do they?”

“Yes, they do. So yes, it’s yours.” Billy was straddling Izzy’s skinny hips, striking a ridiculous pose. “It suits me better, right?”

It was perfect for him, suited his sharp cheekbones, his long hair and his wild eyes. “Take it off.” He begged, wanting to touch him so badly he ached, but Billy didn’t understand.

The redhead faltered, face crumpling. “I’m sorry—” His first reaction, as always, was to apologize, because everything was usually ‘his fault’. Bill started shrugging out of the jacket when Izzy’s fingers closed around his wrist.

“No, I mean. Take it off, and then take the rest of your clothes off.” The brunette grinned as Billy’s shy smile returned full force, cheeks reddening under his gaze. “And I’ll get mine off too, I think that’s how it works.”

“You, you’re just… jeez.” He was usually better at making sentences, but nothing ever worked right around Izzy (except his dick which was suddenly starting to pay attention, but come on, he was sixteen and sitting atop his very _beautiful_ boyfriend in a room alone).

They pulled away long enough so they could undress, both afraid to take their eyes of each other for more than a second. Billy drank in the sight of Izzy naked, he was perfect everywhere (and he really could have guessed that) all sinewy muscle and dark hair. Billy sighed happily, who could ever rival Izzy’s beauty?

“Like what ya see?”

“How could I not.” Billy snorted when Izzy pointedly drag his eyes over him, nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Izzy found that he wanted to worship him, taste every part of him, possess him, take him apart to put him back together again as his own. Breathing deeply, he tightened his grip on Billy’s hips and whispered a jumble of words he’d read in his mother’s ancient books, voice thick with emotion.

“What’s that?” Billy asked, cheeks flushed, palms flat against Izzy’s chest where he could feel his racing heart. Whatever he had said, it sounded beautiful.

“I said your soul is beautiful, and I want it bound to mine.” Izzy shifted till Billy was beneath him. “Do you accept me?”

The boy moaned, high and broken, “Yeah. I accept you; I want you to be with me, always.” Then Izzy was licking into his mouth again, pouring his soul into the kiss, taking Billy’s breath away. He reluctantly traded those lips for kissing down Billy’s neck, leaving marks where he knew everyone would see.

Billy was his, he was _claimed_. No one else could ever have him.

The redhead choked out a startled little sound when that hot mouth closed around a nipple. And in hindsight, he probably should have kept his mouth shut, because Izzy shot him a devilish smirk and tortured him. Nipping, flicking and sucking at them both till they were hard and slick with his spit, flushed deep rose from the abuse.

“You like that?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb teasingly over a hardened nub. He wasn’t gloating, or trying to embarrass his Angel—it was an honest question, it was his first time too.

Billy’s blush deepened, but he smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” His eyes were dark, hands fisted in the sheets.

The brunette trailed wet little kisses down his Angel’s torso, avoiding his flushed pink cock lying hard against his pale quivering stomach. Izzy’s intense gazed locked on it, mouth flooding with saliva when it twitched at the attention and Billy shoved his hand down there, endlessly embarrassed.

“Why’re you hiding?”

The redhead squirmed, “Because…”

Izzy couldn’t understand for the life of him just why Bill would hide when he was the most beautiful being he’d ever laid eyes on. When everyone stared at him as he passed and wished he was theirs.“You’re beautiful, you’ve got nothing to hide.” Billy hesitated before huffing and slowly removing his hand.

He then proceeded to show him just how beautiful he was, laving at the flushed head of Billy’s cock, eyes falling shut when the boy keened, high and melodic, hand flying to Izzy’s hair.

He tasted like heaven, he needed, so he worked his tongue over Billy, a hand pumping his length, squeezing and coaxing more pearly drops from his tip, lapping softly at the head, moaning at the tang on his tongue. Only he get’s this, no one else.

When he finally took Billy into his mouth, the redhead was far gone, head thrashing from side to side on the pillow, hips twitching then stilling because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jeff somehow. Izzy didn’t care, he was ravenous, focused only on giving his angel pleasure, so he took him down nice and slow, humming when Billy’s thighs clamp around his ears.

“Holy fucking shit!” Billy’s thighs trembled, stomach clenching, heat coiled in his stomach building and _building._ They hadn’t really started and he was almost fucking done. “Stop—”

But Izzy was taking him down further, throat spasming around the intrusion forcing a hoarse scream from Billy’s throat. He was trying not to, but he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking, desperately trying to push himself impossibly _deeper._

Izzy wanted him to, wanted Billy to fuck his throat, paint it with his cum so he’s all he can taste for weeks. He let go of Billy’s hips, hoping he’d take the cue and stop being so fucking thoughtful all the time. The redhead’s hips pumped that thick cock in and out of Izzy’s throat, and he sighed happily, closing his eyes and listening to the music they made.

“Izzy,” Billy wailed, trying his hardest not to look at what a pretty picture his gypsy made with his pink lips stretched around his cock. “I’m gonna, fuck!” He tried to scramble up the bed, pulling out of Izzy’s wicked mouth, but the brunette closed his hand around Billy’s waist and dragged him back, latching unto the head with a hungry sound, tongue dancing beneath it.

“Oh fuck.” That’s all he could get out before he’s shooting into Izzy’s mouth, vision whiting out, suspended in that moment of pure bliss. The brunette moaned happily, drinking him down eagerly, pulling off only when Billy started sobbing harder. “Oh fuck Izzy.”

“You taste so good baby. I knew you would.” Izzy sounded like he’s the one who just lost a few brain cells from that orgasm. “I wanna taste you everywhere.”

Billy shuddered, feeling arousal seeping into him again, and fuck he was sixteen, a slight wind could get him hard. Izzy grinned like he knew just what was going on in Billy’s head, and he probably did, all things considered.

“I wanna eat you out, Angel.” He mused, hand moving slowly over his own cock. “Maybe not now, because I’m dying to get into you—” Billy whimpered, blush spreading all the way down to his pale chest.”—But one day, Imma just lay back and let you ride my tongue baby.” Billy’s cock twitched, and if Izzy’s actions wouldn’t kill him, his mouth sure would. “Work all the way inside you, till you’re slick and sensitive—fuck Bill.”

“I wanna taste you too.” He admitted, shy but earnest. “I wanna taste you everywhere.” He toyed with his own cock who seemed very interested in whatever Izzy had to say.

“You do, Angel?” Izzy snatched his hand away and breathed in a shaky breath. “On your stomach, babe.”

“Like this?” Billy asked, presenting himself perfectly, chest against the soft blanket, back arched, ass sticking up like an offering. Izzy’s hand went to the base of his dick, squeezing, desperate to stop himself from getting worked up as quickly as before.

“ _Fuck_ , baby.” Billy buried a mischievous smile into the pillow, stomach clenching at the sound of Izzy’s pleasure-soaked words.  The brunette couldn’t stop staring at the small pink pucker, obsessively dragging spit slick fingers obsessively across it, watching it twitch at every brush of his fingers—begging for him.

“I did it, before I came over,” Billy supplied, voice roughened and wavering. “Got my fingers inside, just in case you…”

“Fuck, you started off for me baby?” Izzy pressed one finger into him and Billy just relaxed and _took_ it, he can feel how slick he is inside already. “In case I just wanted to fuck you right away? Bend you over as soon as you walk in?” You could barely get two words out of the brunette on a normal day, but once he was with Billy, he couldn’t stop his every thought from spilling out. “Can I still finger you?”

Billy’s breath hitched, he itched to stroke himself off to the thought of Izzy’s slender digits inside him. He had many times before, imagined just how Izzy’s fingers would feel deep inside him. “ _Pleas—_.”

Izzy’s sinking two fingers inside before the word properly left his lips, moaning like he was the one getting worked over from the inside. “You’re so _tight_ ,” he pressed a kiss on one pale cheek, working his fingers inside and out slowly, savoring the feel of silky channel clenching around him. “God, you’re _burning_ up inside, Angel.” And he should have guessed that, because there always seems to be fire surrounding Billy.

The redhead squirmed, hips jerking against nothing, groaning long and loud. “Izzy! Harder!” he sounded euphoric, shoving himself back unto Izzy’s fingers, confessing that it had never felt like this when he had tried it alone.

Izzy bit his lip, eyes wide, trying to take in every possible movement, every sound Billy made. He curled his fingers, brushing against something that made his Angel wail, high and melodic to Izzy’s ears. The brunette squeezed his eyes shut, stilling and committing that sound to memory. “Fuck, Billy. You gonna sing like that _all_ the time for me?”

Billy sobbed when Izzy brushed against that spot again, “As long as you— _aah_ – keep doing that.”

Izzy laughed, pulling his fingers out. “God, I wanna do that to you all day. Just get you on your back and finger you till you come all over yourself.”

Billy hand squeezed tighter around his dick, practically staring his orgasm in the face, room filled with the lewd sound of the brunette’s fingers in his ass. “After, please just fuck me.” He did not come over here to shoot off before Izzy even got inside him.

“How do you want it?” The brunette rocked back on his haunches, tilting his head and peering down at Billy. “It’s easier if you’re on your stomach.”

Billy shook his head rapidly, dreading the idea of being in that position again.“I wanna watch you.” _I wanna know it’s you for real._

Izzy smiled at him fondly, “Kinky.”

“You sure talk a lot when we’re alone.” He rolled over, laughing when Izzy smacked his thigh gently.

“You didn’t seem to mind a few seconds ago.” He pointed out, opening a condom packet with his teeth. Billy has no idea why that turned him on.

“Well your fingers were in my ass so...” Izzy stared down at him with so much love in his eyes that Billy temporarily lost the ability to even speak.

“Ready?” His angel nodded, blue eyes smiling up at him and Izzy had to take a moment to prepare himself for what he knew would change him. He entered him slowly, mouth falling open as inch after inch of his length is sheathed in that welcoming channel.

For once, neither of them had words.

Billy stared up at him, kiss swollen mouth hanging open, eyes blown wide, face filled with wonder and amazement. They moved together in silence, except for the broken little sounds being ripped from both their throats. Their bodies slot together perfectly, Billy was perfect around him, Izzy perfect within him.

They just _fit._

Their love making (and they really couldn’t call it anything else) was slow and fluid. All Izzy could do was give his Angel whatever his body wanted and watch how beautiful he looked taking it. Grateful that Billy had given him this, now they were one. When Billy finally clenched around him, spilling hot and sticky between them, there were hot tears spilling down his cheeks, body shivering beneath Izzy.

“Oh Izzy, I love you so much.” And Izzy closed his eyes at that, hips jerking erratically, coming so hard he’s tearing up too, words a jumble of Romani and English.

But Billy understood fine, _I love you_   sure _felt_ the same in any language.

 They lay together clutching each other long after they had come down, amazed that anything could feel like this. 

"Fuck, Izzy." This was different than anything he'd ever imagined, this was greater than anything would ever be, larger than them both.

"Yeah Angel," Izzy smiled. "Me too."

\-----------------------

**Present, Indianapolis**

They somehow both trailed off and were staring at each other in silence. Slash had passed out over the coffee table, but Steven and Duff were still paying attention (as best as their drunken minds could).

Axl squeezed Izzy’s hand, refusing to let go. “And yeah, he walked me home. Stephen noticed, things went to shit. But I had never been happier.”

“Till the night after.” Izzy added.

Duff curled over Steven’s small body, face open and earnest “What happened?”

“I…” Axl swallowed hard, “I went back, because…”

“Because Stephen beat him nearly to death.”

\-----------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Aishe and Izzy were downstairs watching a movie about gypsies and pointing out the inaccuracies (their favorite pastime) when they noticed a weak knocking at the door. They weren’t exactly the most popular family in Lafayette, and it was quite late. They shared a puzzled look before Izzy dragged himself from the couch to go check it out.

“Who is it?”

“Jeff?” The sound of Billy sounding broken and weak terrified him, he opened the door quickly, heart racing.

“Oh God.” He looked horrible, from the faint light of the living room he could see that there was drying blood all over his shirt, either from his nose or his mouth. Dark, purpling bruises were all over him and the way he was holding his hand indicated it was either broken or sprained. Izzy wondered if he had walked here like this, stumbling around in the darkness, alone and afraid. “What the fuck happened.” He ushered him in, slamming the door behind him. Aishe was on high alert now, standing in the doorway and staring at Bill in horror.

“Bill!” She rushed to the bathroom for the first aid kit, “Make him sit, Izzy.”

The redhead smirked in a way that had to hurt, “Stephen happened, guess he didn’t like what saw earlier.”

It suddenly hit Izzy that he had kissed his Angel in plain sight of the front porch, this was his fault. “Oh, Billy. I’m so sorry—” He broke off, concern quickly morphing into all consuming anger. “Was he drunk?”

“Drunk as a skunk.” Billy winced when Aishe begun tending to his cuts. “I think he’s still passed out there in the living room.”

“My son…” Aishe looked worried off her ass. _“Why_ didn’t anyone stop him?”

Billy stared at her in awe, “Why would they? Amy and Stu are too young, my mom wouldn’t dare, she’d get beaten too.” This was the most he had ever revealed about his life at home. “Not that she’d care to anyway.”

Aishe must have noticed Izzy was deathly silent next to her, because she shot him a concerned glance before returning her attention to Billy. “Stay here tonight okay? Damn, you could stay here forever.”

“Thanks, Aishe.” Billy smiled weakly, and Izzy could see that this had really gotten to him, could sense it in the way his aura was a bit subdued, pale, he was not his usual bright self at the moment. He laughed, weak and strained “I was pretty sure he was gonna _kill_ me this time.”

Izzy remembered the exact moment when he vowed to return the favor to the dear Reverend. He watched his mother clean Bill’s wounds carefully, watched how he avoided her eyes and her questions.

“Looks like it’s only a sprain.” She said, closing the kit, “He’s yours from here on out.”  He gently lead Billy upstairs, helped him take a bath (trying to avoid getting his bandaged arm wet), helped him into the bed and curled around him, not bothering to say anything when the tears finally started.

He laid there, holding his shaking angel till the tears stopped and his breathing evened out. It was still dark when he finally rolled out of the bed silently, shrugging on his jacket and shoving his father’s hunting knife into his boot. He slipped out through the window, silent and predatory, feet hitting the grass with a soft thump.

It was almost too easy, slipping into Billy’s room through the open window, standing there in the stillness and listening for any movement. He went downstairs, skipping the third one because he knew it squeaked, and lo and behold, there was the reverend slumped over on the couch, shirtless, surrounded by countless empty bottles. A few of them had shattered.

Izzy wondered what were the odds of him choking on his own vomit.

He leaned down and pulled out the knife, pulling it from its sheath, blade gleaming dangerously in the moonlight. “You wanna act like an _animal,_ Steve-o?” He asked, burying a hand in the man’s greasy hair and yanking him back roughly. He trailed the knife downwards, almost gently over his splotchy skin. “They how about you die like one?”

Stephen head lolled, the man was completely gone and Izzy grinned at the realization.

 He sighed, releasing his hair to slap him across the face. He wanted him awake for this, wanted him to thrash and fight and suffer when he finally gutted the son of a bitch. The man grunted deep in his throat and jolted, Izzy’s hands were gripping his hair cruelly again, wrenching his head back, knife pressed against the vulnerable skin of his stomach.

“You with me Steve-o?”

“Who the fuck are you?” He gurgled, breath soaked with liquor. “Whaddya want? I ain’t got no cash.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about the money you don’t have.” Izzy hissed, “What I _do_ care about is the fucked up shit you keep doing to Bill.”

“Who are yo—” The tip of the knife pressed deeper into his skin, the man broke off with a whimper.

“Listen up Steve-o, I’m gonna gut you, like the animal you are—”

“Izzy!” Billy was standing there, in the doorway, wrapped in Izzy’s blanket, eyes wide and terrified.

Fuck, he’d been followed, and he hadn’t even realized.

“The fuck are you doing here Angel?” He grumbled, Stephen wasn’t attempting to move, not that he could even process anything properly in his drunken state.

“Don’t do it.” The redhead whispered, ignoring the question, looking only at Izzy. “Let’s go home, please.”

Izzy considered it, pressing the cold blade even closer, knowing it had left a shallow cut judging from the shuddering breath he dragged in.“P- please! I’ll pay you whatever—”

“Jeffrey.” Billy said calmly, pleasing with his eyes. “I need you, let’s _go.”_ Izzy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, dragging the knife across Stephen’s skin as a warning.

He pulled away, because all he’d ever been able to do was _exactly_ what his Angel wanted.

“Ya know, if I have to come back here, Steve-o,” Izzy murmured, picking up an empty JD bottle, medium sized, as the man dragged in deep shuddering breaths in the couch. “I won’t hesitate to _cut_ you open.” Then he brought it down hard over the man’s head, ignoring Billy’s gasp, watching in sick satisfaction as the man slumped over, rivulets of blood running down his face.

“Izzy!”  Billy whispered, hands pressed over his mouth.

 _“Relax,_ he’s not dead.” He replied, “Maybe if I hit him again with—”

“Stephen? Did you break something?” Sharon’s voice drifted down the stairs and there was a click of the light switch being turned on, and they were both scrambling out the kitchen door, and taking off into the night.

“You’re real fucking crazy Izzy,” Billy panted, clutching Izzy’s blanket tightly around him. “You’re crazy. You almost killed him.”

“I am.” He replied, grim-faced and sincere. “And everyone who ever tries to fuck with you should _know_ that.”

Billy shook his head and hid his smile. They walked home holding hands all the way, Aishe was waiting downstairs when they returned. She took one look at Izzy, shook her head and returned to bed without question.

\----------------------------

**Present**

Even in his current state, Duff could sense things starting to click into place. Izzy almost killed Stephen, Izzy was dead set on fucking Carl up. Maybe he’d have to keep a closer watch on him during their visit. “Jeff.”

“Only Axl calls me that.” He replied coolly, arm wrapped around the redhead’s waist.

Duff sighed and tried not to feel hurt, “Izzy, what are you planning.”

“You gotta be specific; I’m planning lots of shit.”

“Izzy…”

He got that strange look on his face, then he was smiling and pulling away from Axl who was dozing on his shoulder. “Right now, I’m planning to get some rest.”

The redhead blinked awake, making a needy little sound when he noticed his gypsy was leaving, and thank God Slash wasn’t awake to hear _that_. “Where ya going.”

“Bed.”

Axl nodded sleepily, “Goodnight Gyp.”

“Sleep tight, Angel.”

\--------------------

After their sound check, the boys drive out to meet Aishe. Axl was practically bouncing around in the passenger seat beside Izzy, looking forward to seeing her after what felt like forever.

Aishe was outside her new home (Izzy had sent her money to renovate the whole thing), dark curls tumbling around her shoulders and sporting beautiful smile.

“Aishe!” Axl shouted, jumping out of the car before Izzy had shut the ignition off, starved for the motherly affection he never truly had.

“Oh, baby.” She cried, face a painting of joy. “You’ve grown.” She hugged him, he was taller than her now, God, he looked good. “You look great.”

“Have you been ageing in reverse?” He teased, holding her at arms length. “Jeez you look more like his sister than his mother.”

“Oh you.” She snorted, “Think you can flatter an old woman? Where’s Izzy?”

“Mother.” Izzy smiled, laughing when she scowled disapprovingly at his hair.

“You cut it.”

“It was getting pretty hard to manage.” He squeezed her tight, spinning her a little, lowering her when she smacked him hand, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You look great.”

“It’s all those gifts you’ve been sending me.”

Izzy motioned the others over, “This is Duff and Steven.” Aishe glanced at his necklace, then back and the two boys, a mischievous grin spreading on her face.

“Oh, I see.” She smiled sweetly at them, ignoring Duff’s outstretched hand for a hug. “Nice to meet you boys.”

Axl laughed at their awe-struck expressions. “Aishe, this is my boyfriend Slash. Slash, this is my mom.”

“Hello, I’ve heard _so_ much about you.” Slash accepted a hug, laughing when she touches his hear sneakily.

“Huh, I’ve heard all about you too.” She smirked, spinning on her heels, charms tinkling at the movement. She clapped her hands excitedly “ _Hadza!_ Come on in boys, dinner’s ready.”

Dinner was actually _interesting,_ Aishe took it as a chance to find out all she could about them and just how her sons were living. She couldn’t help glancing from Slash to Izzy, wondering how they were getting on.

“Well, how long have you two been together?” She asked, peering over her tea cup. Slash seemed like a nice enough guy, warm and caring. But he wasn't her son. He wasn't Axl's match really, but he would love him just the same.

“Just about three years.” Slash replied with a fond smile.

“Oh funny, Izzy and Axl have been together for like _fourteen_ years.” Aishe laughed when Axl choked on his food and Slash fidgeted awkwardly. “It’s absolutely adorable.” Izzy shot her a look and she lowered her eyes to her plate, toying with her food 'innocently'.

“So Aishe, how have you been?” Axl asked, cheeks flushed, trying desperately to change the subject.

“Oh, you know, same old same old, here alone in the big ol’ house.” She rose from her seat, gently placing her utensils on her plate. “But please, I’m not getting any _younger,_ remember you and Izzy promised me grandchildren.” With that, she swept out of the room, red skirt flaring behind her, humming a little tune.

Izzy shrugged, “We kinda did.”

“I was fucking sixteen.” Axl hissed, glaring over at the brunette. “Let’s not pretend that you even _want_ kids.”

The brunette faked a hurt expression, “We picked out names and everything.”

“I’m not naming any child of mine Zepplin.” The redhead groused, “What was I thinking?”

Izzy laughed, slipping out of his seat, “Hey, remember our photo Album from highschool? It’s upstairs, wanna take a look?”

And the redhead is not even thinking about rejecting that offer, because that was one of their most prized possessions. “Yeah, ok. We’ll be right back guys.” Then they’re taking off up the stairs, chattering animatedly all the way up.

Izzy’s room was the same, the same bed, curtains, posters, and fuck—maybe coming up here wasn’t one of Axl’s better ideas. The brunette shoved a small leather-bound album into his hand, and suddenly his doubts aren’t at all important.

“Oh God.” He groaned, there they were on the first page, at Izzy’s fifteenth birthday party (attended by only Aishe and Axl, because Izzy got pissy when they suggested he invite other people), covered in frosting and looking extremely pleased with themselves. “We’re such losers.”

“We’re the _coolest.”_ He insisted, pointing out the picture of them swimming nude in the nearby creek. “You were so tiny.”

“So were you.” Axl shot back, cringing at his old haircut, who the fuck thought it was okay to let him near a curling iron?

Izzy sat next to him, laughter rumbling in his throat. “Yeah, but we were _happy.”_ They sat there for probably an hour, shrieking with laughter and groaning at all the stupid things they took picture of, thinking they were hot shit.

“Hey, Angel.” Axl looked over at him, his hypnotic eyes and soft smile. “If I ran away, would you come with me?” The redhead’s heart ached at the question, memories of the first time he left resurfacing.

“Izzy..” Could he stand to lose him again? Three times in one lifetime? Axl’s very soul answered with a resounding _‘no’._ “Yeah.” He whispered, not so proud of his admission.

“Hey, Angel.” He teased, “If I wanted to kiss you, would you let me?” And Axl’s body was answering before his lips could formulate any type of reply, leaning towards his gypsy, humming a pleased little sound when their lips slotted together, perfect in a way nothing else could possibly be.

He pulled away, forehead resting against Izzy’s, “We should get back, little gypsy.”

Izzy swore he could feel his love for Axl coursing through his every vein. “Ok, Red. Let’s go back.”

They finally disentangled their fingers at the top of the stairs, Slash looked up to see Axl looking flushed and freshly kissed. Immediately there’s an aching in his heart and he briefly wondered if it were possible to die of a broken heart.

Aishe noticed too, and god if she smiled any harder her face would split. “Well then, I’m guessing you boys aren’t gonna spend the night huh?”

“After the show.”

“I’ll be sure to come see you.” She walked them out, lagging behind so she could speak to Izzy alone. “Axl looks well taken care of.”

“Yeah well, we do our best.” He looked at her expectantly, hands buried in his pockets.

Aishe rolled her eyes, expression darkening. “It’s done.”

“You took care of it?” Izzy asked, needing the confirmation.

“It’s _done.”_ She hissed, tone cold and fearsome. “You don’t mess with my boys and get away with it.”

The brunette smiled bright enough to rival the sun, and kissed her cheek, “ _Gestena_.”

“My pleasure.” She said before shooing him away, “Have a safe drive, boys!”

\--------------------------------

Slash was miserable.

Axl watched him pace about the room, unable to sit still for long. Chuckling, he turned down the volume of the television and made his way over to the guitarist, stilling him with a hand on his bicep. “What’s wrong with you, old man?”

The brunette grunted in annoyance and Axl actually begun to worry. “What’s up?”

“Tired I guess.” He replied, staring down at the carpet. The redhead sighed and pat his back.

“Sounds like you need kisses and a nap.” He commented, squeezing Slash’s shoulders affectionately.

“Yeah...” The brunette laughed, a bitter sound. Axl took an involuntary step back, smile wavering. “If I were to kiss you, Gingersnap, would I taste Izzy on your lips?” Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was just paranoid, maybe he needed to have a little faith.

But Axl wasn’t answering.

Instead, the redhead paled (if that was even possible), face a mask of guilt and confusion.

“Oh holy _fuck_.” Slash laughed, because if he didn’t, he might scream or cry and never stop. “I’m right.”

“Slash wait, I...” _But just what was he going to say?_

But the brunette wasn’t listening; he turned away and stormed out without another word, door slamming behind him. Axl stood there in the center of their now empty room, feeling hollowed out and cold.

He never liked the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadza!- Come along!  
> Gestena- thank you.  
> There are so many types of Romani, I'm almost certain I used two different variations.  
> Poop.


	10. Chapter 10

He was not exactly sure where he’s heading when he stormed out, but he somehow ended at the poolside. Night is beginning to fall, and the pool is almost empty, he sat there, staring into the shimmering blue, almost laughing at how it reminded him of Axl’s eyes.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” He hissed, sitting back, waving a worker who offered him some fruity drink or another away. You could barely see the stars here, in the city. He wanted to call Ola or James, and bitch and rant about his failing love life, but he couldn’t even find the energy. And what exactly would he tell them?

He chuckled, massaging his temples to keep the starting of a splitting headache at bay.  His phone chose that exact movement to vibrate in the most annoying manner, scowling, he fished it out of his pocket to come face to face with a text from Perla.

She had been texting him over the years on and off, and he never replied, or opened them, but suddenly he’s wondering what the harm of one conversation could do.

 **Perla** : _Hey_

 **Slash** : _Hi_

In record time, a second one rolled in.

 **Perla** : _Wow, you replied? Trouble in paradise?_

His own laughter surprised him, she hadn’t changed one bit.

 **Slash** : _Maybe_.

 **Perla** : _Pretty boy did you wrong?_

Slash hesitated, staring into space for a moment; he didn’t want to talk about it, not with Perla. He hadn’t forgotten what she did, whatever bullshit Axl admitted to paled in comparison to it. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Slash: Something like that.

 **Perla** _: This will cheer you up then._   *image attached*

The guitarist looked away, should he even open it? What did he have to lose anyway? Sighing he tapped on the attachment, and there she was, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, donning something lacy and sheer. He couldn’t help admiring the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips.

But the fact remained, it wasn’t Axl.

Slash sighed, shooting off a quick reply.

 **Slash** : _The lace is nice._

 **Perla:** _Wow, just how gay did you become?_

 _Not gay enough to ignore just how good you look._ He settled for sending a smiley, retreating to his messy thoughts for a while.

 **Perla** : _Hey, aren’t you in Indiana? Saw it on TV, wanna meet up?_

 **Slash** : _You’re here?_

 **Perla** : _Modeling thing._

That sounded unconvincing even to him. He sat there, staring down at the screen till his eyes burned, trying to come to a decision. What’d he have to lose? He felt restless, ready to jump at the chance of doing something stupid as fuck.

_Axl, you've got Axl to lose._

Slash sighed; he got the idea that Axl wasn’t his to lose in the first place.

 **Slash:** _Ok, where?_

She texted him the address of her hotel, promising him dinner and friendly conversation.

He shouldn’t have, but he did anyway.

When he did show up, they didn’t bother having dinner, they barely got words out, and because it turned out she was wearing nothing but a smile. He wasn’t thinking of Axl when she pulled him close, or when she dropped to her knees before, smirking devilishly up at him. Not when she took him into her mouth, technique completely different from Axl’s (she wasn’t half as good, but then again Axl had more training.)

He laughed then immediately felt like shit for it. Perla looked confused, but he gripped her hair and pulled her roughly forward, forcing her to take him deeper, not so concerned about her discomfort.

He wasn’t thinking about luminous blue-green eyes when she finally got him on his back, sinking slowly unto his cock, mouth falling open.

He wasn’t thinking about how different she was from Axl, how he was endlessly tighter, how her moans were softer, her hips wider, her hair dark brow, curlier.

He wasn’t thinking of Axl.

He fucking _swore_ he wasn’t.

\------------------

Slash didn’t come home that night, so Axl curled up alone in the large bed, mulling over the shit he had gotten himself into. He didn’t answer the door when Duff came knocking, concerned that he hadn’t eaten.

He didn’t answer when Steven came, asking for Slash.

He didn’t open when Izzy came, well, he didn’t knock. Just stood there before saying “Tell me you’re not doing anything stupid in there.”, and Axl knew he was referring to the suicide attempts, the cutting, his self-destructive behavior.

“I’m fine, just cold.” And confused, and fucking worried about Slash.

There was a lengthy pause before he said softly “Well then, when you get _too_ cold, come find me.” And he left without another word, knowing Axl had understood his implication.

Just what was he supposed to do, huh? Give Slash up? For Izzy? Give Izzy up? For Slash? Should he let the love of his life go, his savior, his soul, his everything, the type of person that comes around once in a lifetime (he was lucky enough to find him that young). Should he give up the very person hand-crafted for him?

 But Slash?

Slash who picked him up when he was broken, who stood by him through the most trying shit, who rolled with his tantrums and his crying and with how fucked up he was, should he give him up? He loved him, he did, but he betrayed him. He knew damn well that he would rip himself apart from the inside out for just a bit of affection from Izzy, for just a kiss, hand-holding for a few minutes, just for basking in his presence.

And for Slash? Would he give up everything he wanted, needed even, for the one person that loved him enough at a time he felt no one did? Just who the fuck decided to plop him in this situation. Of course, he couldn’t be happy, not for long anyone, sooner or later he had to choose between his two sources of happiness—and not for the first time in his life, Axl was being torn in half.

He laughed, it was either he pick one or the other, or he’d get nothing. Because that was the way things like this always worked. Apparently, life wasn’t through fucking him yet, how arrogant of him to have ever thought he’d get happiness so easily.

“Yeah well,” He tugged the sheets closer to him. “Fuck you too man.”

He didn’t go to Izzy, he found one of Slash’s pullovers and it kept him warm just fine.  He never stopped to consider just what that meant.

\-----------------------

A few hours before their performance, Slash showed up, completely drunk. The redhead almost laughed when he did, they’d been calling him for hours, driving on the streets, asking around.

But there he was, in all his glory, in yesterday’s clothes, sporting a pained expression. Axl couldn’t find it in himself to get angry, so he walked away without another word.

Of course, Slash managed to play just fine, even in his inebriated state. He couldn’t stand up though, at one point he was laying on his back, stumbling through his ‘Sweet Child’ solo, and Axl stood there on top of a speaker, sweat glistening under the bright lights, regretting his very existence.

_Of course I’d fuck him over, I fuck everything over._

Aishe was waiting backstage, beaming proudly at the boys. “Oh dear, you guys are great. I can’t believe my babies are so grown up.”

Izzy laughed and hugged her tightly, kissing her on the cheek. “I swear I could hear you screaming over everyone else.”

The woman pushed her curls back from her face. “Yeah well, you’re welcome.”

She left them cookies and gave them hugs, holding Axl’s face between her hands with a sad expression. “I know you’re struggling. And I wish I knew what to tell you, but I don’t. Just, go with what feels right, my child. With whatever causes you less pain.”

She pulled away before he could reply, handing out little charms to them all. “For good luck, and prosperity.” She waved and smiled, turning back to shoot Izzy a loaded glance. “You remember what I told you, when you were just a boy. It’ll help you out.”

Izzy hummed, how could he ever forget? “Goodbye, Mother. I’ll visit soon.”

They went back to the tour bus, wanting to head back to LA for their final show, quickly. Axl was getting sick of this town, every time he came back, he either built something (like his relationship with Slash), or he broke it. And the breaking was quickly coming to pass.

Slash was sprawled on the couch, clutching a bottle of Jack like a lifeline. He hadn’t said a word to anyone.

No one said a word to him.

Steven was, behaving oddly, constantly pacing, hands akimbo, chewing obsessively at his bottom lip.

“Jesus Stevie,” Slash finally spoke up. “Could you sit still?”

“Could you maybe not take up all the couch space?” The blond snapped back, tone cutting and so unlike his usual manner.

Slash pushed his hair out of his face to glare at Steven, finally giving Axl a clear view of his eyes. He looked fucked up, spaced out, and Axl’s stomach sank at the realisation. “Are you fuckin _on_ something?”

His brown eyes snapped to Axl, lips pressed into a thin line. “And why the fuck would you care?” Perla had brought out the good stuff last night, promised him that it would take his mind off things, that he’d be feeling fine in no time. Somehow, he felt worse, testy—fucking _murderous_. God, if Ola could see him now, she'd smack the shit out of him. He somehow managed to turn into the very thing he hated once again. He had been like this before, with Perla, always doped up, mean, a few claws short of a complete monster.

They were terrible for each other, and he had mentioned that to Axl, but he had never really talked about it. About how she kept him doped up while she did as she pleased (which included cheating like it was going out of style), fuelled his destructive habits, helped him distance himself from all those he held dear. Ola couldn't even look at him, James barely talked to him, Ash didn't come around and that was the way she wanted it, in his state, he didn't have half the mind to stop her. She destroyed him, but he hurt her too, revenge or something like that? Maybe he was just an asshole. He knew damn well he could be, went around fucking almost every single one of her friends, while they were still "married". She got mad and sold all his snakes, and maybe that was what woke him up, funnily enough. They divorced, she wanted half of everything, he pulled some bullshit to prevent her getting all she wanted, but she still got a pretty hefty sum. Of course she took the opportunity to drag his name through the dirt, and he didn't pull his punches either.

Looking back, hooking up with Perla was probably the dumbest thing he had done in a long while. He was _pretty_ sure she wanted him dead.

“Slash, did you use?” Axl shouted, Steven flinched, running a shaking hand through his hair. Slash looked up at him, so beautiful in his anger, he had to squeeze his eyes shut, his currently fucked up mind suggesting the image of the man might burn right through them.

The drummer tried to smile, “Guys, we should probably calm down.”

“Where the fuck were you last night, huh?” The redhead slammed his book shut, rising from the floor. “Didn’t heroin already fuck up your life?”

 _Yeah, and so did Perla. But I couldn’t stop myself from going back to her either._ “Maybe you should just shut the fuck up, Princess. I’m not in the mood for this right now.” Christ, who allowed him to drink? His head was about ready to split in half, spilling its contents everywhere. Axl’s mouth snapped shut, and he stood there, hands dangling limply at his sides, staring at Slash as if seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t fucking talk to him like that.” Izzy cut in, finally coming out of his bunk, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re pathetic, you almost fell over tonight.”

“Guys, I really think we should calm the fuck down—” Duff tried to intervene, voice soothing.

But Slash was already stumbling to his feet, lurching dangerously, eyes focused only on Izzy. “You… this is all _your_ fucking fault.” His headache, his insecurity, his fucking infidelity, _everything_. It was so much better having someone other than himself to pin it all on.

Izzy smiled, slow and sweet. “Me? I _dragged_ you wherever you went last night? _Forced_ you to do whatever you did.” Slash flinched, “And then _shoved_ a needle in your arm?”

The guitarist advanced on him, shaking angrily. “Why are you trying to take him from me?” He was all up in the man’s face now and Axl is at his back trying to pull him away.

 _"I’m_ trying to take him from you?” Izzy’s tone darkened, “Be fucking clear, Sugar, Axl cheated on _me_ with _you_. Not the other way around.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he was throwing a punch before his mind even processed it, but Izzy is fast (Slash being drunk off his ass wasn’t helping things) and able to dodge with startling ease. He didn’t even look surprised or intimidated.

 There is a chorus of voices behind him, but they sound distant and foggy in his head. Growling, he swung wildly again, missing because someone huge (Duff probably) is dragging him backwards by the collar.

Izzy sneered, words soaked with disdain. “Are you serious? Just what did you do last night?” The brunette frowned, studying Slash’s face, before laughing out loud. “Oh my God, you did something other than drugs last night, didn’t you? Is your guilt weighing you down? Is this why you’re so angry?”

“Slash…” The redhead frowned, cupping his face (and just when did he get here again?) “What is he talking about?”

The guitarist was briefly annoyed that Axl believed Izzy so quickly, but then the guilt and realization settled in. “Oh Fuck.” He groaned, burying his face in his shaking hands.

“Yeah, what am I talking about, Sugar?”

“Shut up Izzy!” Axl snapped, scowling, knowing damn well he was the only person that could talk to the brunette like that. Fuck, everything was going to shit and he was exhausted. Izzy pouted, but did as he was told, wandering off to his bunk and mumbling under his breath. “Let’s get you to bed, Slasher. Don’t worry about it, we’re too tired to think.”

Slash was reminded of his unending love for Axl, he felt sick to his stomach. Just what the fuck was he thinking last night. “Oh God, baby.”

“It’s okay.” Axl shushed him, “C’mon, you need some aspirin and rest.”

 _And a fucking fix._ He settled for resting some of his weight on Axl and being led towards the bunks.

Duff was shaken, he stood there staring at the backs of his friends, then back at Steven who was in the couch, pale and trembling. Oh God. Oh Fucking shit. “Steven.” He said carefully, trying to remain calm. He really couldn’t deal with everything at once tonight. “Steven, what did you do?”

The drummer looked up at him, smiling sadly, eyes red-rimmed. “I might have made a wrong call.”

Duff felt his stomach sink all the way down to the floor. “Baby…”

“I just needed a few hits, to keep up with you guys—”

“—Steven.”

“—and it was just to get through the really gruelling shows, ya know? It was only supposed to be till we get back to LA and—”

“How long?” The bassist squeezed his eyes shut, dreading the answer.

Steven pulled at his hair in distress. “Just a few months.”

“How fucking long is few months?” He knew better than to believe that shit.

“Just since New York.” He knew it was useless to lie.

Duff choked out a little hurt sound, “That’s almost nine fucking months. Steven!”

“I know,” He hugged himself, wanting to stop the jitters, the pangs, the aches. “But God, I _needed_ it Duff. And it didn’t seem to be doing any harm but—”

“But now you’re all out.” Duff hissed, turning away, looking wildly at everything and nothing. “Christ, Steven. I thought I could trust you, not have to breathe down your neck for once.”

Steven chuckled hoarsely, a bit self-depreciating. “Come on, Slash is a breathing example. _Never_ trust a junkie.”

\---------------------------

 **Present** , **LA— (A few months later)**

They made it back to L.A in pieces, somehow managed to get through the final show without brawling.

Slash and Axl talked it out (Slash of course never mentioned Perla even once), he admitted to hooking up with some random person. The redhead looked a bit sceptical but grudgingly accepted it.

Steven’s health deteriorated, it got so bad that he couldn’t play.

Duff, well Duff searched for answers in the bottom of a bottle, and he went through many daily. It didn’t seem to solve his problems, but it numbed him for a while and he was infinitely grateful for it.

Izzy and Slash were still at odds, the tension between them palpable even to outside forces. One interviewer had mentioned it, but Axl had snapped at him and changed the subject. That was pretty much it, their rivalry went unchecked and Axl unravelled a bit more with each passing day, because even now, he still could not find the answer he sought.

But they had made it through the tour, three whole fucking years of it, and no one was dead. A little bruised yes, but not dead. They parted ways afterwards, desperately craving a little space and rest. Duff bought a nice mansion, pool, tennis court, the whole works. He stayed there alone with his pets, because Steven sure as fuck didn’t come with him (despite his begging and pleading).

Izzy bought a nice apartment close to the beach, it was small, cosy, so perfectly Izzy that Axl had smiled when he showed it to him.

Slash and Axl went home together, and they certainly knew the needed to talk, but they had all the time in the world, not to mention the added privacy.

Steven? Well Steven got his own apartment away from the others, he never gave them the address, he kept in touch (occasionally) and he promised them time and again he was getting help. He was, in fact, doing no such thing.

He _missed_ Duff.

He _missed_ his boys.

He _missed_ his mom.

But when he was doped up, he missed no one, and that was the _best_ he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the end of the AFD era, but there's still so much to be explained :)  
> No worries, all will come to light.  
> It's time to Use our Illusions.


	11. Chapter 11

They finally had the whole place to themselves. Slash had finally managed to convince James to take a vacation after arguing with the man for weeks.

“You _miss_ your family.” Slash pointed out, “You can visit them if you want, ya know?”

“Who says I miss them?” He sniped, “I have you guys right here.”

“You’re too old to constantly be putting up with our shit.” He replied, ignoring James’ bitchy tone.

“Did you just call me _old?”_

Slash neatly dodged that one “James, just a few weeks. I’m sure Emma misses you.”

“Emma?” Axl finally piped up.

“His ladyfrie—”

“Shut up or you won’t get dinner.”

So grumbling under his breath, James had booked a flight a few days later and left enough food in the freezer to last a month (against Slash’s pleas). The house was impossibly quiet without them bickering every ten seconds, and it both pleased and saddened Axl to have no one’s accent to make fun of.

Things were still kind of tense between them, Slash went out of his way to be polite to the redhead, and Axl sometimes had to mentally prep himself before attempting to start a conversation—but they were getting better, talking more about things they’d usually not discuss.

“So, why did he leave?” Slash finally asked, kicking his feet in the shimmering water.

Axl  splashed around gleefully, getting water everywhere, giggling like a child. “What?” He swam over to where Slash was sitting, resting his hands on his thighs. “I couldn’t hear you over all the fun I was having. Dude, how far down does this pool go?”

Slash laughed, “Way down. Ya know, if you go to the basement, the walls are glass, you can see whatever’s going on under there.” Axl’s eyes widened, the guitarist could tell he was already planning something outrageous. “Why did Izzy leave?” He asked again, before he lost his will.

His sunny smile morphed into a sardonic smirk. “Which time? The first or the second?”

 ‘ _Or the inevitable third_?’ His mind added.

The guitarist shrugged “Whichever one you wanna talk about.”

Sighing, Axl pulled himself from the pool and plopped next to Slash. “Okay, but can we dry off first?”

Slash nodded, “You’re the one who bitched about wanting to use the pool.”

“Yeah,” Axl whined, pouting. “But it’s so fucking hot out here, I’m turning red.”

“You’re already red.”

The redhead grinned, resting a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “You know what? You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded, “In fact, we both should enjoy the pool.” Slash had no time to decipher just what the hell that meant because Axl chucked him into the pool, laughing maniacally.

“Oh my God.” He spluttered, flailing, “You are _so_ dead!”

“Guess that means we both gotta dry off now, huh?” He called over his shoulder, scrambling into the house when Slash started getting out of the pool. They trekked water into the house, James would have slaughtered them if he was here to see, rushing upstairs to grab towels (leaving wet footprints on the carpet). It turned out drying off was a lot harder when you’re fighting for your life as Axl was soon to find out.

Finally, they managed to get dress and clean up their mess, belly-aching all the way. “If you hadn’t tried to drown me, this wouldn’t have happened.” The redhead couldn’t argue with that, so he kept his mouth shut and continued mopping.

“The first time,” Axl muttered, making space for Slash was laying across his lap. “The first time was no one’s fault. He left because he had to, he get’s restless sometimes.”

“So he just ups and leaves?” Slash queried, staring up into those blue eyes. “Runs off?”

Axl hesitated, “Well, he just, moves about. It’s the kind of person he is, the kind of soul he has. He can’t stay one place for long.”

“So he won’t ever settle down?”

“Not in the way we think of it, no.” The redhead smiled fondly, playing in Slash’s curls. “He finds someone he loves, and he’ll love you forever, he settles down with you.”

“And then he leaves.” Slash sniped.

“Not like that.” He muttered, frustrated. “He leaves, but he won’t leave without you. He’ll roam about, but he’ll _never_ leave you behind.”

_So what the hell happened with you two then?_

Axl sighed. “I didn’t go with him, at the time… I thought I couldn’t. People were depending on me.”

\----------------------------------

**Past, Indiana.**

Billy was more or less a thing of the past, he was Axl now, seventeen, reckless and wilder than he had _ever_ been. He found out about the whole ‘William Bruce Rose’ thing while searching his mother’s room for money (because seriously, the whole ‘no food’ thing was seriously getting on his nerves. Amy needed it, Stu needed it). He came across some pretty _interesting_ documents, documents that clearly showed that Stephen dearest, was in fact, not Axl’s father. William Bruce Rose was. And his name wasn’t William Bruce Bailey, it was actually William Bruce Rose Jr.

Huh, _interesting_.

Sharon got two shades paler when he waved the papers in front of her face. “Sharon, who’s this William Rose guy?” She snatched it from him, cradling them protectively in her arms.

“He’s no one.” She said, voice trembling. “And it doesn’t matter, cause he’s dead.” She brushed past him without another word, and that was the last thing she said to him for weeks.

The streets, however, said differently (and he had so much more time to listen to what they said since he dropped out of school; Stephen had thought it was full time he stopped _pretending_ he had a chance to attend college and wasting his ‘hard earned’ money).

“Oh Rose?” Mr. Wileman asked, finally talking after Axl had bought him a beer. “He sur’ was a wild one. Rode into town some years back on a Harley, wearing nothing but leather, the whole works. Had some band called AXL or something, they played right in this here bar.” (And the redhead had immediately took a liking to that name, it rolled around in his head until he finally decided to stick with it)

“He was quite a handsome man,” Ellie added from behind the bar, winking at Axl. “You look just like your daddy, boy.”

Wileman cackled, raising his beer at her. “Stole Sharon’s heart with nothing more than a glance, she was crazy for him. Ran off from home and got pregnant at sixteen, she was just a wee girl, but she was as wild as he was.”

Axl had a hard time imagining docile, soft-spoken Sharon as anything but. Although she must have been, to have the balls to run off with a complete stranger. “What happened to him?”

“Well he sure wasn’t the marrying type.” The old man grumbled, frowning into his empty glass. “But oh, me memory’s gone a bit _fuzzy.”_ He glanced expectantly up at Axl, eyes twinkling mischievously.

The redhead laughed and signalled Ellie for another beer. “You’re something else, old man.”

“I don’t know what ya mean.” He retorted, taking a long sip from his now-refilled glass. “Anyway, he left. He wasn’t the staying kind, and I doubt this little town could hold him for long, but damn did Sharon try. He came back a few years later, tried to settle down, when you were just a wee lad.”

Axl sighed, tipping his chair back. “And then what?”

“Well, it never worked out, he was too much of a—”

“A _whore.”_ Ellie cut in, smiling when the redhead giggled.

“He was too much of a ‘free love’ kind of person.” The man continued, unperturbed. “Sharon threw him out, realized he was never gonna be ok with just one woman. But God, she shouldn’t have done that, he went into a rage like nothing we’ve ever seen before.”

Axl’s blood chilled at the mention of his dad going off, it sounded so much like him, he could almost see the scene before his eyes. William getting pissed, the anger bubbling beneath his skin, his urge to break something, even someone.

“He was battering down yer mama’s door, yelling for his son, calling her all kinds of things. Promising he’d change in one breath and promising he’d cut her head off in another.” The old man sighed, hanging his head. “She left you with her Mama, she still had to work to feed you. But William got in, he got to ya. Ran off with ya before Sharon got home, she nearly lost her mind.”

 _‘Wow, she used to give half a shit about me at one point, huh?’_ He thought to himself, grinning sadly.

Wileman stopped talking, cocked his head to the side and stared Axl down. “She didn’t call the police, she loved him, never wanted him to get in trouble, even though the man was as crooked as they come, no offense.”

“None taken.” He replied, easily.

“She found him, in some place at the edge o’ town,” The old man’s pale eyes darkened, smile slipping from his face. “No one knows what she had to do to get you back, or what he did while you were there. You were just a kid, just a kid.” He trailed off, the whole bar was silent, Axl hated when that happened.

Because that could only mean one thing, he was _lying._

Everyone was lying, to _protect_ him.

Sharon lied to him for years.

Stephen, his grandma, the whole fucking town.

Axl sighed, he wasn’t sure if he needed to be protected anymore, or if he was ready for whatever they were keeping from him. “Alright, thanks old man.” He said, pushing his chair away from the table and walking away.

“Just ‘cause he’s bad,” The man called, “don’t mean you have ta be! He aint got no hold over you, kid.” He really wished that were true.

And so he had shed the Bill Bailey persona, stepped away from it and all it implied. Stephen couldn’t dare demand that ‘his son’ come to church, nor could he lay hands on him (not that he had since Izzy almost cut him to pieces). He was a whole new person, and sure, maybe ‘Axl’ got into a way more shit than Billy did, and maybe he couldn’t keep a job (he tried his best to, for the children), but he felt better than he had in years.

He visited Izzy with the news, clambering through his window and breathlessly telling him all he had found out over the past few days.

Izzy snorted, “I don’t give a fuck what your name is, you’re still very much mine.”

Axl agreed wholeheartedly, and proceeded to show him just how much he was still his. Things were great, until they suddenly weren’t.

He couldn’t get a job, he didn’t have the certification needed, and no one exactly needed extra help in a small town such as this. He helped out on the farm (what was left of the land Stephen hadn’t sold to pay his debts), but the money was just enough to pay the bills and keep the water on.

The extent to which everything had gone to shit finally made itself known when he got a call from Amy’s school saying she had fainted away during assembly. Sharon didn’t care, Stephen didn’t care, and he really couldn’t fucking keep this up for much longer.

But what could he do? To take care of them, Aishe would feed them if he asked but he didn’t feel comfortable asking, hated the idea of living off someone else’s kindness. He accepted whenever she offered, smiling stiffly and feeling like shit. Like this was somehow all his fault.

He stole a little here and there, just enough to keep them going, he might have gotten in trouble with the police more than once (and fired from his job to boot), but what was he supposed to do? Sell his soul for riches? He was loitering outside Ellie’s bar when it came to him. He had dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe, lowering his eyes and watching the ember go out. He’s dragging his eyes back up, when he noticed a car pull up next to a lady across the street, tinted windows and all, the woman didn’t appear to know whoever it was because she continued staring off into the distance, fingers resting in the chain link fence. The person must have said something interesting, because she leaned down, smiling sweetly, ruby red lips moving. After a few minutes, she got in the car and it pulled away.

Axl considered just what the fuck that meant, then it hit him, full force (or maybe it was the chilly night air, he couldn’t really tell), she was a whore. For some reason he never once considered this a possibility (not here anyway), but as he walked home, he realized the town was dotted with half dressed women (some of them looked barely sixteen) and a few men, here and there (though they stuck to the alleys).

“You lookin’ for something, Sugar?” A lady purred, giggling when he more or less ran away.

He went home and considered it for days. It wasn’t hard right? All he had to do was suck a couple of dicks, fuck a few people and cash in. He wouldn’t keep it up for long anyway, only enough for the kids’ lunch money, and maybe some dinner. Maybe he would be able to buy Amy a coat before the cold really seeped in, if he was lucky, they both could get the shit they needed.

How bad could it be?

And so, while Izzy went to school, Axl spent the day ‘researching’, finding out just what the fuck this job entailed. The ladies were kind enough to help the ‘pretty boy’ out (they wouldn’t stop calling him that), explaining that he could make his own rules, that he never had to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Always carry protection,” The ruby lady told him. “And I do mean a weapon too, fuckers might get too rough or forceful. Had to threaten to cut a trucker’s dick off before he’d let go of me. But don’t worry kid, we’ll look out for ya, they’ll eat you right up.”

And so his career begun, he didn’t mention it to Izzy (lest the boy attempt to mutilate anyone who had ever touched him) and he didn’t tell anyone else. Ellie picked up on it, but she didn’t say a word, he waited till everyone had gone to bed before shrugging on the thickest jacket he had (which wasn’t very thick, he was shivering more often than not) and sneaking out to meet his new friends.

\---------------------------

**Present, LA**

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Slash said softly, tangling their fingers together.

“Yeah well, it either that or starve to death.” Axl shrugged, he had long since accepted that his past helped get him where he was today, whether he was proud of it or not.

“So you… made enough?”

The redhead laughed “I made enough and then some.”

\--------------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Business was good. He sometimes wondered why everyone wasn’t doing this. His rules were pretty simple, and must guys (and girls) got that and refused to push him further on it.

  1. No kissing
  2. No fucking (unless I’m the one doing the fucking)
  3. No water sports.
  4. No weird shit.
  5. No barebacking.



He had a few johns who got out of line (but the straight razor he kept on him at all times quickly put them right back in) and a few who tipped way more than necessary. There was this one guy (probably from outta town, no one else knew him), long dark hair, intense blue eyes , real tall and mean lookin’, but also real kind. He visited almost every week, drove up in a sleek BMW dressed in nothing but black, wanted no one else but Axl. If he was with another client, he’d wait at the gas station (Axl’s spot) till he got back, patiently.

At first, he was a bit weary of him, afraid to get into the car, but as more time passed, he got more comfortable. John, that was his name, was a sweetheart; he didn’t pull his hair (like some of the others enjoyed doing), force him to gag around his length, call him names or force him into awkward situations. He was patient, quiet, very gentle.

 They soon begun talking (or Axl did, John never said much) and the redhead got to know more and more about him, he was a foreigner, he rarely talked because his English was faulty (Axl thought it sounded pretty nice), he liked rock and roll and racing cars.

The redhead laughed, “Racing cars? You sound like a kid. Do you like the red ones?”

“Maybe I grew up too fast.” He replied, German accent thickening his words, smiling slyly.

Axl liked how his w’s sounded like v’s and how everything sounded a whole lot scarier in a German accent.

John tipped like a motherfucker, overpaid Axl by far. Who pays $200 for a shitty blowjob? He asked about it once, but John had just smiled and given one of his cryptic replies. _‘Maybe I wished someone had tipped me this well, kid.’_

Not everyone was as nice, of course.

One fat trucker had tried to force himself on Axl, bent his arm and held him down.

“Come one boy, I promise you’ll like it.”

He almost had him halfway out of his pants before Axl was able to wriggle the razor out of his jacket and press it to the fucker’s throat. “You get the fuck off me this instant!” He hissed, like his heart wasn’t in his throat, and his hands weren’t shaking.

“Christ kid, I just wanted to show you a good time.” The man grumbled, eyes comically wide, darting ever so often where the razor was pressed against his skin.

“And gimmie my fucking fifty!”

“You don’t even deserve a twenty you whore—”

He pressed the blade closer and the crumpled fifty was handed over with little argument.

He jumped out the shitty truck, almost running back to the square, regretting ever getting in to begin with. He got lucky.

Other times, he wasn’t so lucky.

One man managed to rape him, the one time he had taken off his jacket, the one time he had become complacent. He woke up the next morning aching and sore to an empty motel room and a couple of crumpled hundreds on the bedside table.

‘ _Well, at least he tipped nicely_.’ He thought, before laughing and laughing and laughing for fear of crying. He grabbed the money, shoved it in his pocket and limped home.

“What’s up with you lately?” Izzy asked one night, they were lounging around in his room, getting high.

“Whaddya mean?” He replied, dreading Izzy’s prying. He almost  _always_ found something.

“You’re…” Izzy hummed, searching for the right word. “You’re different.”

Axl forced himself to laugh, “Maybe it’s the new name.”

Grey eyes regarded him, Izzy wasn’t laughing. “I don’t think so.”

“Izzy…” Axl swallowed. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

The brunette chuckled, “I never said there was anything _wrong_ with you. I said there was something up with you, don’t twist my words.” He said shortly, turning away.

Axl should have seen it then, the difference in Izzy. Should have sensed it, how much he wanted to go, to get far away from here. But he didn’t, because he was too busy looking after everyone and everything else. When he did realize, it was too late.

 He walked in on Izzy packing one evening, shoving everything into a duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” He asked, though it was plain to see. Izzy had been talking about it, leaving, for years. Axl had, in a way, not ever expected him to, it was just something they talked about. Like being rich, useful… happy.

“I’m packing.” He replied simply, zipping up the bag and dropping it with a thud at the foot of the bed. “How you forgotten? I graduate in June _—” And how had it become June already? Had it already been a year?_ “—so we can leave together in a few weeks. Don’t act like you don’t remember, it’s all we talk about.” The brunette smiled at him, “We can finally be free, Angel.”

Axl’s stomach flipped and he was pretty sure all the blood drained out of his face. “Where…” his voice gave way, his mouth worked uselessly.

“LA, St. Louis,” Izzy laughed, shoulders shaking. “Fuckin’ Africa, kid, who _cares?_ The point is, we’re outta this hellhole.” He clambered across the bed to where Axl was standing, planting a kiss on his open lips. “Get packing, kiddo. It’s only a few weeks.”

“Yeah…” he replied, abusing his bottom lip. “Yeah, a few weeks.”

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked, frowning down at him. And God, when had he become this beautiful? His hair was longer, wilder, he had stopped cutting it months ago, on his seventeenth birthday he had gotten his nose pierced and that never ceased to do things to Axl (and Axl got his nipple pierced, just cause he wouldn’t stop bitching about it). He was taller now, a little taller than the redhead, his hand was filled with silver bangles, he wore at least five different charms on him all at once. He had given up the tees for sheer shirts (the first too buttons were always left open, exposing his pale skin), the sneakers, for cowboy boots.

He looked good. More mature. Different.

He was different, but he was still Izzy.

“You’re coming right?” He asked, voice filled with concern. “Axl, what’s up with you?”

“I am.” He said, lying through his teeth, knowing damn well that he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. “I gotta pack, but yeah. I’m okay, Jeff. We’re okay.”

\--------------------------

**Present**

“Why did you lie?” Slash asked softly, they had shifted around during the story and Axl was now curled up in Slash’s lap.

“Because I was fucking stupid.” The redhead hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I thought I couldn’t leave Amy, or Stu, but that was bullshit. I didn’t stay for Amy and Stu, I stayed for myself. Cause In was scared to leave, scared of what life outside Lafayette would be like. I chose to stay because I was _weak_.”

\----------------------------

**Past, Indiana**

Izzy was brave. Almost foolishly so.

So when he waltzed through their front door on a torrid Friday evening, tipping his hat mockingly to Stephen and ignoring Sharon completely, Axl knew just what to expect.

“Come on, if we head out early enough we can make good time.”

The redhead froze, “Izzy…”

The brunette’s cocksure smile slipped away, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t come.”

“What?” He replied coolly. “What’re you talking about, Angel?”

“I can’t.” He snapped. “I can’t leave the kids here with those people.”

Izzy rolled his eyes, “Yeah, you can. Leave them with my mom, she’s already complaining about how lonely she’ll be when I’m gone. You know she’d take them, it’s no trouble.”

“How’s she gonna keep them from Stephen?” He whispered, “He’s their dad, that shit’s illegal.”

“You’d be surprised at just what she can do.” He said cryptically. “Now pack, we gotta go.”

“No.”

“Axl—”

“Fuckin’ leave if you want!” He yelled through his tears, “But I can’t!” I’m scared.

“Baby, _please.”_ He said, composure crumbling. “You wanna leave, I know it. I can _feel_ it, so why won’t you? I promise we’ll come back. I know you’re worried about them… but you—” He made a frustrated sound deep in his throat, “—are ya gonna fuckin waste away because you’re so busy taking care of everyone else but yourself?”

Axl flinched, diverting his eyes from the truth stated so clearly in that sentence. “I think you should go.” He said calmly, though saying those words almost killed him. Though he was shaking, though Izzy was there, begging him to reconsider. “I just need more time.”

The brunette nodded. “Yeah ok.” He was livid, Axl could feel it coming off him in waves.  “Ok, but remember you _chose_ this. I sure do love ya Angel, I’ll call you whenever I get the chance.” And the way he left, stalking out without an argument showed just how mad he really was, Izzy never gave up anything without a fight. But he walked away from Axl that day without another word, not looking back even once.

The redhead watched him leave, wandered out onto the front porch with a tear-streaked face, shivering though it was summer. The wind danced through his already mussed up brunette locks, his guitar case in his right hand, his duffel in his left and Axl’s heart somewhere in pieces behind him.

\----------------------------

“Sshh…” The guitarist rocked Axl gently, running his hand through his hair. Christ, just what had he started. “It’s okay.”

“One year, I had to live without him for almost a year. I couldn’t take it after a while,” He sobbed. “I should have gone with him, I almost lost my mind, trying to make sure everything was _right_. Amy noticed, she told me to go, that she’d be fine.”

“Axl, I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t fucking fine.” He hissed, “He was still fucking with her. She almost killed herself, and—“ he laughed, “I wanted to stay, I wanted to stay and fight for her. But I couldn’t, because if I did, I would have completely lost myself.”

“Sometimes we have to fight our own battles, kid.”

The redhead sniffled, “You sound a lot like John.”

“Yeah well, apart from the whole fucking a minor thing—”

“—You do know I turned eighteen that February right?”

“—he sounds like a pretty alright guy.” He finished, smiling when Axl  giggles.

The redhead wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Don’t think you’re exempt from this, you have shit to tell me too.”

“Like what?”

“Like who you _fucked_ that night.” And he wasn't trying to sound hateful or bitter, but he guessed he kinda did cause Slash winced.

“Axl…”

“ _Bullshit_ , there’s no way a _‘random chick’_ could convince you to get back on heroin that easily.” He snorted, “Come on man, that’s not you.”

Slash sighed, accepting that the man would needle the information out of him some way or another. “Okay. Fine. Once you finish this.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, “So, Izzy didn’t know about your job?”

“You mean the whoring?” He asked cynically, chuckling a bit. “And that brings us to ‘Leave Axl’ part two. That’s why he left, Slasher, when I finally got to LA. Things were great, it was fucking impossible. I mean, at first, this city was shit, cruel, cold, the whole works. But once we got the hang of it,” He sighed happily. “It was… like living the dream.”

“But…?”

“But,” Axl’s face darkened. “The past always catches up with you, don’t matter where you are, it’s gonna follow you around to the end of time.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Leave Axl' pt.2 lol

**Past, Indiana**

Axl wasn’t sure of the exact moment he realized he would have to leave this town. But it was probably around the time when Stephen put him in the hospital. He had swaggered in one evening, smiling his faux smile (he kept it firmly in place since the day Izzy left) and humming, to see Stephen pinning Amy beneath him on the couch, one hand fumbling with his belt.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled, looking frantically around for a weapon, anything to fucking split the man’s skull. He grabbed a bottle of Jaxk and brought it across his back with a crack, feeling a bit satisfied when he grunted as it shattered against him. “Get the fuck off her, you fucking _pig_!”

He did, and Amy scrambled off of the couch, chest heaving. The girl was two months shy of her fourteenth birthday. She was just a fucking kid.

“Get outta here Amy!” He commanded, eyes never leaving Stephen, who had turned to face him, eyes narrowed almost to slits. “Get the fuck to my room, and lock the door!” He never got to check if she made it up the stairs, because Stephen was closing a meaty paw around his slender throat, squeezing with crushing force.

“Why are you here, boy?” He bellowed, jowls quivering. “The Angels—”

“The… Angels… aren’t fucking real.” He managed to force out before digging the broken neck of the bottle into the man’s bicep. Stephen howled and released him, he spluttered, dragging in much-needed oxygen.

The Reverend is coming at him again, with such hatred in his eyes that regretted ever stopping Izzy from gutting the monster. Pain exploded in the side of his face when Stephen’s fist landed there. He couldn’t keep up with it all, they came one after the other, the man was truly in a rage. He gave in, just laid there and took it.

He couldn’t remember much about that day, but he woke up in a hospital, covered in bandages.

“Hey kid,” The nurse’s gaze met his, then she winced. He guessed he probably looked like shit. “That mugging must have been bad.”

“Is that what he told you?” He croaked, throat drier than it had ever been.

She shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to meet his eyes a second time. “It’s not my place to ask questions. If the reverend said it was a mugging, then it’s a mugging.”

He had never hated this place, these people more than that moment. It had always been like this, he could have showed up to school with his guts trailing behind him and they’d say ‘the reverend said nothing happened, so nothing happened’.

They all looked at him with veiled sympathy, they knew, but they treated him liked a liar.

He wasn’t the liar, they were. They lied to themselves every day. Went to bed with a free conscience every night, pretending everything was hunky-dory.

He had to get out.

So when Izzy called again (because he always stayed in touch) Axl told him.

“Izzy, I wanna leave.” He said calmly through his tears. He had rubbed himself raw in the shower, some douche john thought it was okay to spit on him (literally and figuratively—because he wouldn’t shut up about the ‘whore’ thing).

“What’s happening, Angel?” Izzy replied, his voice sounded so distant. Axl wanted to cry even more. “Did something happen. All you gotta do is tell me and I’ll come fuck up—”

“Nothing happened.” He replied, “I’ve just... had enough time. I’ve made up my mind. There’s nothing for me here.”

The brunette sounded so happy, Axl couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up inside him. “Aww for real, baby? Just say when, I’ll come for you.”

If he set foot in this town, he’d know just what Axl had been up to. It was town gossip, how Stephen went off, how he was getting money, how he was no good. How he was picked up by the police again. How this was his last chance, he’d be locked up probably for good. “Uhm… I’ll take a bus, thanks.”

Izzy hadn’t noticed his tone, “Oh God, finally. Duff! Axl’s coming—” The redhead rolled his eyes _, Oh God, was he discussing him with his flatmate?_ “—Ugh no, not that kind of come you bastard! Speaking of which, hey babe, what’re you wearing?”

Axl giggled, they’d done this before, he was almost always horny because Izzy was oh-so far away. “I’m wearing your shirt.”

“Hmm… which one? You stole almost all of them.”

The redhead rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. “Motorhead.”

“Aww, it was always a bit too big.” He mused, “Slipped off your shoulders. What else?”

“Nothing.” He groaned, burrowing under the sheets and rubbing at his thigh. How long had it been? He slipped his hand a bit higher, waiting for Izzy to tell him what to do.

“You touchin’ yourself, Angel?” He heard a squawk of outrage in the background and ripped his hand away.

“Izzy, tell me Duff isn’t still in the room.” He said, almost laughing, because of course Izzy was shameless.

“Uhm.. Duff isn’t still in the room?”

“Bullshit.” He said, chuckling quietly as he hung up before Izzy could protest.

\--------------------

**Present, LA**

“Wait, you got picked up by the police?” Slash asked through a mouthful of cereal.

“One too many times, one more offence and I’d be in for good.”

“So, who bailed you out?”

“Aishe, when I needed her.” He sighed, “I’d always pay her back of course. But then Alex happened.”

\----------------------

**Past, Indiana**

He got picked up by some young cop one night for prostitution. He was real nice about, a real good looking guy, clearly new since he was stuttering while he talked. He got fined for it, he paid it, got a warning, got out—the usual. He didn’t, however, expect to see the cop again.

“Are ya picking me up again?” Axl whined, “Seriously, you just walked right by twenty something other hookers.” He shifted, rubbing his eyes and ruining his eye shadow. This night was going fucking _great_ , and to top it all off he’d only managed to make one-fifty.

“Uhm… no, I just came for a drink.” He stuttered, face heating up. “I’m off duty.”

“Huh.” He had the bluest eyes, maybe bluer than Axl’s. His blonde hair was cropped close, and yeah, when he wasn’t stuttering or reading Axl his rights, he had pretty nice lips. “Cool, enjoy your drink.” And he thought that was that. But he wasn’t moving away, instead he stared at his feet, fumbling with his shirt sleeve. How old was the kid anyway? “Uhm… you interested in what I’m offering?” He said jokingly, raising his brow when the blond grinned shyly.

“Maybe.”

“Isn’t that like… illegal?” He asked wearily. Was this just a trap?

“Isn’t your job illegal?” he shot back, blushing when Axl laughed.

“Ok kid, you got a point. But I got rules…”

He didn’t ask for much, was real sweet and gentle. Made the softest little sounds when Axl took him into his mouth, bit into his fist to muffle his moans. Got all apologetic and flustered when Axl told him he could walk back from here.

“Relax man,” The redhead teased. “It wasn’t a date, I don’t expect you to walk me home.” He gave a mock salute, “It was a pleasure sucking your cock, officer.”

He never expected to see him again, seriously, maybe it was a one off thing. But he kept coming back, blue eyes shining beneath the brim of his hat. Axl humored him, then grew to like him a bit more. The kid was a sweetheart, only twenty two, far away from his family and friends.

“Hey, about those rules.”

“Hmm…” Axl grunted. “Need me to repeat them?”

“No fucking, you said, unless... you do it?” He said, “Well, would you fuck me…?”

“Alex, what are you asking?”

“Would you fuck me?” Alex asked, smile wavering.

“Yeah, but.” He looked over at the blond. “That’s gonna cost you a bit more, and we can’t exactly fuck in your car.”

“I—I know that—” He said, narrowing his eyes when he realized Axl was just teasing. “ _Asshole_.”

“You love it.”

So that happened, he fucked Alex, as gently and as carefully as Alex dealt with him. And it was good (for him too, for once) but while he was cumming, Alex said something that set off at least a million alarms.

_‘I love you’_

Axl didn’t walk out on him, continued fucking him through his orgasm until he came too. Was still careful with him afterwards, cleaned him up, stroked his hair.

“That wasn’t half bad kid.” He attempted a joke, it fell flat between them.

“It was great.”

Axl nodded and started getting dressed. He’s halfway through the door when Alex stopped him.

“You didn’t take your money.” His eyes begged Axl to stay.

“That one’s on the house.” He said, all false bravado and sly smiles. He walked home, braving the chilly night air. Feeling a whole lot like shit. He should have seen that the man was getting too attached, hell, he was getting attached—he just walked out on money that he fucking needed.

‘I love you’ he had said, and he had meant it. Or he thought he did.

Axl could never love him back, and that just wasn’t _fair_ to him.

He left on a regular Saturday, stopping first at Stu’s room and depositing some hundreds, then at Amy’s.

“You’re going to him, aren’t ya?” She asked, she didn’t look the least bit surprised.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back though.” He hesitated, looking around her room. He couldn’t imagine leaving her here. “Better yet, grab some clothes, let’s get outta here.”

“Axl,” She whispered, “I can’t.” He saw it in her eyes; everything he had been feeling when Izzy had asked the same thing of him and then some.

“Okay kiddo,” he breathed, regretting it even before he said it. “I gotta go, but I’ll come back for you.”

“I know.” She sounded more confident that he felt. “Thanks for the cash.”

“No prob.” Neither of them mentioned where exactly he got it from, though they both knew.

He took off with almost everything he owned in a duffel bag, and a few hundreds in his pocket, hopefully enough to get him to L.A. Izzy promised to wait on him, all he had to do was call. He got a ride with some AC guy, nearly got raped (he was getting used to that shit) but he had his razor ready this time, managed to get the fucker against the wall with it pressed to his neck. He robbed the guy blind and took off down the road, shivering and longing for safety. For someone he could trust. For Izzy.

He made a call at the next payphone, next to some bus top.

“Where are you?”

“Some bus stop, no idea.”

“Can you get to a motel?”

“No idea.”

“Christ, kid. Okay, stay there and get warm. A bus has gotta come along. Stay safe okay?”

He curled up on the bench with Izzy’s jacket around him and the razor tight in his grip. He drifted off for a bit, and when he came to, there were three other people.

“You waitin’ for the Greyhound, kid?” An old man asked.

“The what?”

“The bus to the city. Get your ticket at the station up ahead.”

Axl nodded excitedly, he didn’t even know that was a thing. He ran back to the pay phone and told Izzy he was taking the Greyhound, the brunette laughed.

“Ok good, I’ll wait for you at the last stop, don’t get off until then.”

The bus came, he got on, followed Izzy’s instructions and stayed on till the last stop. He didn’t like the city at all, it was too… much. The noises, the lights, the people. He clutched his  bag to him, looking about for Izzy.

“You lookin’ for somebody, farm boy?” A homeless man asked him, tilting his head and eyeing Axl’s get up.

Farm boy? Ah yes, the plaid and cowboy boots. He blushed, “No sir.”

“Do you know where you are?” He grinned, eyes too wide, too bright.

“Uhm…” He searched desperately for an answer.

“Yer in the jungle, baby.” The man cackled, and Axl suddenly realized that he might not be exactly sane. Yeah, well, neither am I. “Wake up! Time to die.”

The redhead was busy trying to decide if that was a threat and if he should reach for his razor, heart going a mile per minute, when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Get the fuck away from him, man.”  
Izzy.

Izzy was here.

The crazy man shuffled off, still cackling and talking to himself, and there was Izzy, grinning devilishly. “Hello, Angel.”

“Jeff!” He threw himself at the man, clinging to him for dear life. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Izzy kissed him, right there in the middle of the street and Axl pulled away, because you can’t do that shit in Indiana. “Relax, Angel. It’s different here. Let’s get home.”

“I’m fucking exhausted.”

The brunette chuckled, “Luckily my friend has a van.” He led him over to wear some blond guy with great hair was waiting (feet up on the dashboard). “Duff, this is Axl.”

“Oh jeez, you weren’t kidding when you said he was beautiful.” Axl flushed, and waved shyly.

“Hello.”

“Yeah, well. He’s mine.” They both climbed in and then they’re taking off down the road. Axl is trying to look at everything at once and dozing simultaneously.

“You still mine, Angel?” He heard Izzy’s voice ask from someplace.

“Yeah…” he murmured. “I’ll always be.”

\-------------------------------------

**Past, LA**

The city changed Izzy, he was still Izzy, just… _more._

He did a lot more, apparently he was a dealer, he had the best stuff, it paid his bills and fed them both.

He was also putting together a band, and he wanted Axl at the front.

He was much more open with his affection, often tugging Axl closer to his side, or kissing him in full view of everyone else.

But he was still Izzy, and Axl was happy.

For an entire year, it was like living the dream. He got a job, earned enough to help out with the rent and groceries, the AC was shitty, but it didn't matter when you were curled up with the one you loved.

Duff was a sweetheart, and Axl didn't mind if he stared at Izzy a little, or if his touches lingered. Izzy was his, and it was obvious from all the marks he left on him. Duff's eyes would catch the kiss marks all over Izzy's neck then dart away.

Axl smiled, because as much as he was Izzy's, Izzy was also his. And no one in their right mind would ever tried to get between them.

That was until they went clubbing one night, a gay club (because apparently they had those here). It was amazing, being able to be so open, dancing together, pressed so close together that nothing could come between them. That was, until someone did. Someone bumped into the couple, pushing them apart.

“What the fuck, man?” Izzy said calmly, narrowing his eyes at the man.

“Oh, hey Axl? Is that you? What are you doing in LA?” And Axl never got it, till he suddenly did.

“Alex?” He squeaked, the thumping music in the club suddenly too much, his head was spinning.

“Hey,” The man grinned, pulling him into a hug. Izzy basically growled next to him. How have you been man?”

Axl started walking towards the exit, trying with all his might to avoid this. “Uhm, I’ve been great.” But Alex was a bit drunk, and he followed, practically _beaming_.

They were outside, the night air harsh against his skin. “Listen, we gotta go—”

“Is that your boyfriend?” He jerked his chin in Izzy’s direction. “I can see why you were so hung up on him.”

“He a _friend_ of yours, Angel?” Izzy asked, lighting a cigarette calmly.

He laughed nervously, “You could say tha—”

“I was his client.” Alex said, tossing the empty beer can behind him. It fell with a clatter on the sidewalk. “Back in Lafayette, he was quite popular.” He laughed cruelly.

_Ah, A mean drunk then? Just my fucking luck._

“What’s he talking about, Axl?” Izzy said, endlessly patient, tone edged with danger.

“He… it’s—”

“Ohooo, he didn’t _know_?” The man’s eyes flickered from Izzy to Axl.

“ _Quit_ it, Alex.” He snapped, hugging himself. Fuck, why was it so cold?

The blond continued, slurring horribly. “Yeah, he was a star back there. Ya know, a whore. We fucked, he _fucked_ me. Walked out when I said I loved him, didn’t take my money either. Guess he was caught up on you.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for a city like LA to be silent for a whole two minutes, but it sure felt like it was, but then Alex went on cackling and Izzy’s whole aura _shifted_.

But Alex wouldn’t shut up. “ _Angel_ , huh? Sure is sweet. I thought I loved you, but the _Angel_ turned out to be nothing more than a whore. I never saw him again, he ran off or something—” And that was it, the way he mocked Izzy’s nickname for Axl, that’s what finally did it. Izzy was on top of him in record time, pummeling his face ferociously. Alex was no match, and Axl couldn’t pull him off alone. The bouncer had to haul Izzy away from the boy’s bloodied face, and even the huge man looked a bit shaken, he released Izzy as soon as Axl got a hold of him.

“Izzy… Izzy please.” Axl begged, “Let’s go home, _please_.”

Izzy’s body relaxed and they walked home in relative silence. The brunette’s knuckle was bloodied, but that was nothing compared to Alex’s face. The brunette didn’t reply when Duff asked him what happened.

He allowed Axl to bandage his hand in silence, before finally asking. “What the fuck was he on about, Angel?”

The redhead snapped the first aid kit shut and swallowed. “I had to, do some shit for money back in Lafayette, just for a while. Just to get enough money for Amy and Stu, and to… keep the power and water on and stuff.”

Izzy looked as if he’d been punched, “Angel…” He looked crushed, Axl squeezed his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you…”

“What? Ask for help? Izzy you can’t mind _all_ three of us. Neither can Aishe, and after you left I just did what I had to do.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you _tell_ me?” He asked, he sounded angry, but not at Axl. “Did you get hurt? Were you safe? Fuck kid, if I hear that one person laid a hand on you…”

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt, and Alex isn’t usually so fucking shitty.” Axl sighed, “I hated it, but it was the quickest way to make money. And no one tried anything stupid except—” He cut off quickly, but Izzy had already jumped on the slip up.

“Except what.”

“Just one guy…”

“Axl…” His voice was wavering, and Axl had never heard him like that before.

He looked away, kept his eyes glued to the peeling wallpaper. “One guy, I didn’t have my blade on me, I couldn’t get it. So he held me down, and uh… yeah…”

Axl felt his stomach sink when Izzy scrambled for the bathroom, the sounds of his retching forced it even further down. He was disgusted. He’s disgusted with me. He doesn’t want me anymore. The redhead curled up into a ball on the floor and cried until Izzy came back.

“Axl, baby what’s wrong?”

“You don’t want me anymore.” He wailed, “I’m _sorry,_ I know I shouldn’t have let him get me, but I couldn’t _do_ anything about it and—”

“Angel, no.” He kissed Axl’s damp cheeks. “It’s not you, I’m not disgusted by you. It’s that fucking asshole! Whoever he is, the fucking sicko. I can’t believe I wasn’t there for you…”

“Izzy…”

“Some fucker hurt you, and I wasn’t there to rip him to shreds with my bare fucking hands.” To say Izzy was ‘mad’ would be an understatement. “Oh baby, come on. Come to bed. Don’t worry about it, I’ll keep you safe.”

But he wasn’t able to, because he was too close. Axl got tangled up in his drug-dealing. It started out with just a small fix to feel good, but it quickly turned into more. He started on heroin and things started to go downhill, he lost his job. And once, Izzy had found him doped up and staring down at his loaded gun.

“Axl…”

“Sometimes… don’t you sometimes wanna die Izzy?” He slurred, expression slack. “When you remember bad things?”

“Baby, gimmie the gun.”

“I sometimes wanna die.” He continued, stroking the cold metal almost lovingly. “Especially when I remember all those things.”

He managed to get it away from him before he did anything stupid, but that wasn’t the last of it. The fights came frequently, especially when Izzy moved the drugs. Axl lashed out, violently and hatefully, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“This is gonna fucking ruin you!” Izzy roared, staring in awe at what Axl had become.

“Yeah well, _you_ introduced it to me! _You_ brought me here!” Axl yelled, craving a fix in a way that mad his bones ache. What was he saying? He wasn’t sure, but it was taking Izzy down a notch or two. “How can _you_ be mad? MAYBE I WANNA BE FUCKING RUINED!”

He didn’t remember much after that, everything was more or less in grey and white. Izzy was more withdrawn, he hardly came home, he tried to avoid Axl as much as possible. He blamed himself, that’s what Izzy always did.

He got pass out drunk one night waiting up for Izzy, hoping they could talk for a while. Maybe he could explain that he didn’t mean what he said, that he was stupid and high. Izzy didn’t show up.

Axl went to bed, cold and lonely.

When he woke up, everything was gone. Izzy’s clothes, his books. All that was left was a wad of hundreds on the bed next to him and a note saying _‘I’m sorry I ruined you, Angel. I don’t want to ruin you any further.’_

Axl didn’t cry for a long time. Instead he picked up the half-empty bottle of Jack and tried to drink himself into a coma. Izzy was gone, what was the point of anything?

 Duff walked him to find him like that hours later, staring down at the charm necklace with unfocused eyes.

"Where's Izzy?" he asked, prying the bottle of Jim Beam from Axl's iron grip, he had somehow found Duff's liquor, the Jack could only last so long. "What happened?"

"He's fucking gone! He left me—" the redhead glared at him, eyes red and puffy. "He said he wouldn't ever leave, but he fucking did." Duff stared at him, blood draining from his face. Axl almost laughed, but he couldn’t find the energy. He wondered if he would ever laugh again.

"Axl," he tried, voice barely audible, trembling like a leaf. "I- I'm so fucking sorry-"

Axl's  bleary eyes focused on him, and he stumbled backwards. Axl was livid, and now, he had a target. Someone to blame for all of this.

"No you fuckin' aint! Yer glad he left me!" he whispered, as if sharing a dirty secret. "I see the way you fuckin' look at him when ya think I aint lookin! You're glad he left me aren't you Mikey? 'Cause YOU want him for your fuckin' self you son of a bitch!"

He tossed the bottle at Duff’s head and it shattered somewhere behind him. It figured, his aim sucked at the moment. He looked around for something else to throw and his gaze settled on the little necklace in his hand.

Sobbing, Axl tossed that too. “Have him then! Cause clearly he don’t want me no more!”  He stormed off, returning to Izzy’s room (or the room that used to be his) and slamming the door behind him. He buried his face in Izzy’s pillow, crying for what seemed like an age before sleep came.

\--------------------

**Present LA**

Slash was quiet, staring over at Axl who was trying to be calm.

“He, just… took off?”

“He probably thought it was for the best.” Axl said, looking away. Slash’s gaze was too intense. He couldn’t deal with that right now.

“Was it?”

“Fuck, Slash. I don’t know.” He replied, clearly becoming frustrated. “I think I’m gonna retire right now.”

“Axl…”

The redhead smiled, “Hey, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Besides, we gotta meet the boys at the studio tomorrow remember?”

“Yeah ok, night.” He called softly, sitting in the couch by himself, trying to find the guts to tell Axl about Perla. The kid had trusted him with everything, even the things he kept from Izzy. “Aww fuck, I fucked up big time.” He had stormed off thinking that if Axl was fucking Izzy, then he could fuck whoever he wanted. But now, he wasn’t so sure Axl had done anything of the sort.

He’d have to just risk it all and spill.

_Eventually._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm back, and I've been gone since Christmas Eve, nowhere near my laptop (or my wifi).  
> So... Here's three chapters to make up. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  
> Fuck you 2016, you will not be missed.

The phone rang an age before Duff answered, slurring out some kind of greeting.

"I've got something."

The blond lurched up, head pounding from the night of hard drinking. "You found Steven?"

Izzy hesitated, confusion evident in his voice. "No, I meant for the album, we're meeting today aren't we? Wait, Steve's missing?"

The blonde’s spirits fell, "Well not _missing_ exactly, but he won't answer his phone." He dropped back unto the bed, eyes stinging. "I have no idea where he is and I don't think he's okay."

"You want me to find him?"

Duff eyes snapped open "Wait, can you do that?"

"I still have our necklace. Listen, I'll try to get him there today, alright?"

"Oh god, _thank you_. Thank you so fucking much."

"Least I can do. Get some rest."

Duff hung up and glanced around his room, wincing at what he saw there. When was the last time he got out? When was the last time he ate something? He felt like shit, was pretty sure he looked like shit and smelled like it. He stood up, feeling a bit dizzy. He'd clean up, for Steven, try to look presentable, try to disguise his downward spiral as something else.

Maybe then he could convince Steven to get himself together.

______________________

When Izzy hauled Steven in some time after three in the afternoon, they were almost through working on 'Don't Cry'. Slash had fucked off with Myles somewhere and Duff had unraveled, he went from nursing a bottle of jack through the entire session to knocking back more than Axl had ever seen a human take on.

Steven didn't look good and he played even worse. He was _way_ off, Duff's gaze kept flickering from Axl's unimpressed expression to Steven’s, riddled with worry.

Stevie needed help, and quick.

He was pale, drawn, blue eyes distant and flat. He barely said a word to anyone, and still Duff refused to take his eyes off him.

He finally confronted him, when it was all over. "Steven, where have ya been?"

The drummer chuckled, eyes fixed on his sneakers. "You know, here and there, I've been okay."

Axl snorted from where he was lounged on the couch. Duff shot him a look, the redhead shrugged And returned to flipping aimlessly through a magazine. Izzy kept his mouth shut, pretending to be very interested in Axl's magazine.

"You've been… Uh... Off the heroin?" Duff asked, rocking back on his heels

"I.. Uh, I've been getting help." He rubbed his neck, smile wavering. _God, why was he even bothering with the lies?_

"Is that so?" Duff huffed, rolling his eyes. "You look like shit and you're playing even fucking worse!"

Steven glared up at him, "I really don't think you should be throwing stones, Blondie." He hissed, already attempting to storm out. Duff easily hauled him back by his jacket.

"You didn't do shit today, man!" He yelled, "Except prove you're a fucking liar!"

Izzy nudged Axl, “Better start looking for a new drummer."

"What?" He whispered, trying not to draw attention to himself because fuck, Duff looked about ready to snap.

"I know you're thinking it, I know you've already given up on getting him clean in time for the album." He kept his voice light, not even bothering to lower it, considering that Steven was standing about three feet away and all.

"You think you fucking know me?" He snapped the magazine closed. It was even more irritating that he was right. "Got a direct line to my head now?" He spat, shuffling away to put space between them.

Izzy blinked, "What's up with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." He said calmly, magazine crushed in his iron grip.

"Never said anything was wrong with you." Izzy said softly, "You always assume that." He tacked on needlessly.

"Whatever."

"Spit it out then, Red." Izzy said, putting out his cigarette. He glanced at Steven and Duff who had lowered their voices. Steven looked close to tears. "It seems today is all about sharing feelings."

"No."

"Spit. It. Out." He repeated. "You won't talk to me anymore, you barely look me in the eye. What are you so pissy about, Angel?"

And that crushed the last of his willpower, "why the fuck did you leave me?"

He knew this was coming, but it threw him for a second nonetheless. "Because I had to." He said it in that blunt way of his, as if that explained everything.

Axl laughed, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounded like." He sniped. "It was all my fault, wasn't that what you said?"

Axl flinched, feeling sick to his stomach. Yeah he had said that, along with some other fucked up things. "Look... I know—"

"You also blamed me for the whole trying to commit suicide thing." He added, chuckling when the redhead looks away. "Sorry, I didn't want to stay any longer and ruin you."

"Running off when I needed you most was so much of a better choice." He threw the magazine on the tabletop, resting his head in his hands. "God, I nearly lost my mind with you gone, ya know."

"You would have lost your mind with me there." He replied, sidling closer. "I couldn't help you."

"But-"

He gently pulled Axl's hand away." We wouldn't last; we would rip each other apart. For good this time."

The redhead wanted to scream that they'd _always_ last, that it would always work out, that once it was meant to be there was nothing that could break it, but he wasn't so sure anymore. "I love you," not past tense, "we would have—"

"—hated each other." He said, jerking his chin towards Duff and Steven. They were screaming now and Duff was shaking, pulling at his hair.

"You need fucking help! Why won't you let me help you?!"

"Help me?!" Steven laughed harshly, "You can't even help your fucking self! Look at you! You haven't put the bottle down all evening!"

The bassist was impossibly close to sobbing in frustration. "That's not the point! You—"

"Yeah well fuck your judgemental bullshit, I don't need this! Quit trying to fix me when you can't even fix yourself."

Duff was stumped, because it was glaringly obvious that it was true. Enraged, he spat "Yeah well at least I'm not playing like a fucking retard! What was that shit in there? Keep it up and you won’t be in a fucking band!"

That shut him up. Steven blinked, waking up for the first time, realizing that he had fucked up big time. Duff hated him, _fuck,_ what had he done? This band was his saving grace

"Baby, all you need is some help. Lemme help." Duff begged, clinging to Steven's hand which was limp and clammy in his grasp. He didn't care.

"You're gonna kick _me_ out?"

"Steven it's not—"

"It's the only reason I got fucked up all over again!" He cried, wrenching his hand away, needing to get high, just to not think for a while.

Axl flinched and looked away, it was like watching a car crash. _Fuck, was he like this near the end?_

"Quit blaming everyone but yourself! Can't you see this is on you?" Duff roared, blinking back tears. "We're just trying to help."

"I don't need your help." He hissed, shoving the bassist roughly before running out. Duff was silent for a while, but then he's hurling a vase full force at the closed door.

"I fucking hate you!" He bellowed, breathing hard. Axl went to him then, wanting to reach for him but unsure how to. "I hate him!" He sobbed, turning to Axl, looking angry but broken. "He fucking did this to me!" The blond jabbed a finger at the table full of almost empty liquor bottles. The redhead pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight while the larger man shook and fell apart. "I'm so fucked up, Axe."

"You're not. It's okay, we can figure something out." That didn't sound convincing even to him. "Steven just needs—" God what did he need?

"What do I do? We fucked each other up."

"Come on Duff, it wasn't your fault he got hooked—"

"No, but I should've seen it." He whispered, "what the fuck am I here for I can't even help him out?"

"Duff—"

The blond pushed away, "We're over aren't we? He doesn't want my help."

"He does." Izzy said, he was looking at Axl. "You might not see it, but he needs you. More than ever."

"Fucking _look_ at me." Duff said, "You heard him, I can't help myself, how am I supp—"

"You gotta help yourself before you can help him." Izzy walked over to them, placing a comforting hand on the blonde’s shoulder, but his eyes were only for Axl. "You can't help him the way you are now."

"Izzy I can’t –" God he was pathetic, was he even worth saving anymore? Maybe he'd just drink himself to death.

"We'll help you, if you'll let us." Axl said.

Duff nodded.

\---------------------------------

 **Past** , **LA**

Izzy wondered.

Had he ruined Axl just by being close? Was Axl better off without him? Was he hurting his Angel?

The drugs, it hadn't started till after Axl's big reveal about how he got by back there, things were pretty quiet. They were good to each other, gentler, more attentive to each other’s needs. But Izzy still had to work, and he still did drugs. He was too deep in to stop anymore, it didn't feel good, it was just a necessity.

Axl would lay next to him while he was shooting up, watch him closely, quietly, sit there and let Izzy mumble abstract nonsense while stroking his hair.

"Can I try?" He asked one day, while Izzy was high. He'd had a shitty day at work, he was quiet all evening, his blue eyes sad.

Izzy had shrugged, grinning a little "You hate needles, Angel."

"Yeah well I hate feeling like this even more." The redhead sighed, shifting closer. "I'm sure getting high is better than feeling low."

Izzy wanted to tell him that it would, but only for a while. After a while its less fun and a lot more pain. But Axl was pleading with those eyes, and that was his biggest weakness. He shrugged and instructed Axl exactly how to use it, soon they were both laying there, discussing the cosmos and what it held. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.

He'd use from Izzy's stash, just a little at a time. Which turned into more, and more, and more. Till Izzy wasn't the only dealer he'd get stuff from (and _that_ was dangerous), till he got more restless, till the fights got more violent, till Axl tried to off himself.

Not just once either.

Not with just the gun, but with the drugs. With blades, with his reckless behaviour, the brawls. Izzy's head was spinning just trying to keep up with him, trying to keep him out of trouble.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" The brunette hissed, struggling to steady Axl.

"I was dancing, not thinking."

"With someone else's girl?" Izzy raked his hand through his hair, the sudden movement throwing the redhead off balance. He fell unto the hard pavement, groaning. "He almost killed you, what if I wasn't there?"

Axl chuckled, a dark and frightening sound. "You’ll always be here." He said bitterly, almost like he was mad Izzy was always getting in the way of his demise. Maybe this time, he didn’t want to be saved.

Izzy gently helped him to his feet, noticing the liquor on his breath and the hell in his eyes. "Baby...”

"Yeah?" He asked, soft as he could, looking so terrified and young. And god, he was, wasn't he? Just nineteen.

"Talk to me."

They strolled back to their apartment hand in hand; Axl whispered everything to him, voice wavering, eyes watering. All about Indiana , the johns, how much worse it actually was.

He was depressed. So fucked up alarm bells started going off in Izzy's head. He had no idea. How could he have missed this?

He was crying like a bitch when they finally got home. "Baby I didn't know."

"It's okay, I didn't tell you."

"I felt you were _off_ , but god it was nothing like this."

Axl kissed his cheek, "yeah, well, you can't know everything, Gypsy boy."

The brunette reached for him then, hands shaking. "Don't worry, I'm gonna get you help. You need a professional, Duff knows this lady—"

"—I don't _need_ —"

"She's a therapist, you're depressed, Axl you tried to _kill_ yourself. You never go out without coming home bloody and bruised, baby you're hooked—"

"I'm not fucking hooked—" Axl had pulled his hand away and was shouting. Izzy was almost certain Duff could hear them now.

"What's the big deal? I'm just suggesting seeing a doctor!"

The redhead eyes widened, blood leaving his face. He scrambled from the couch, stumbling over his laces.

What was it that set him off?

"I don't need a fucking doctor!" He yelled, slamming their room door behind him with a bang.

Duff poked his head from behind his door, "Everything okay?"

"Splendid."

When Axl finally broke, hissing curses and obscenities, eyes filled with hatred, accusing Izzy of ruining him, the brunette lost it.

He stayed away, going over everything again and again. _Was_ it all his fault? He spent his nights at some dingy motels, craving Axl's company, but fearing it. Sleep plagued by nightmares, visions, vivd and haunting. Visions of Axl dead, bleeding and bruised; in those dreams Izzy was always certain he had been the cause, seen the accusation in his baby's dead blue eyes.

_This was you._

_This was all you._

In the final days, Izzy would sneak in and watch Axl sleep, long after he had been due home. He looked peaceful most times, calm, beautiful. Chest rising And falling, lips slightly parted. But sometimes he wasn't, he tossed and turned, moaned and whimpered, sweat trickling down the sides of his face, arms and legs tangled in the sheets, face contorted in fear.

On those nights Izzy's very soul screamed for him wake him, to hold him close. But he'd always hesitate then drop the thought all together. If he touched him, would he fall apart? Was he cursed to destroy everything he loved?

_You ruined me._

Had he?

He wasn't sure, but he wouldn't sit around ruining him further. He called Aishe, spilled everything, every thought that had ever crossed his mind.

"I'm no good for him."

"Baby..." Aishe said, "I think you need to get him help."

Izzy scrubbed a hand over his face. "How? He won’t let me." He had left brochures all around the house, in places he would see them. He always found them ripped to little shreds and placed in a neat little heap. Selling smack and waiting tables wasn’t exactly enough to pay for rehab anyway, or therapy. Izzy had never cared about money before, he wasn’t rich, but he was never hungry or overly concerned with all the flashy things money could buy. He already had all he needed, his Angel, his mother and his music—that had always been enough, till now.

"You need to sort yourself out, Izzy. You don't sound alright—"

"I'm fine." He said, though he was barely hanging on, barely getting sleep, barely eating. The only appetite he had was for his drugs, that didn’t leave much room for anything else.

"Don't lie to me child." She sniped, "You're not okay. And you can't help him be okay till you are. Get help." She sounded pissed, hung up before he could even reply. He wasn't even sure she was mad at him, it seemed more like she was mad at life. Fate. How everything turned out and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

So he left for Nevada, to stay with his dad. Just for a while, a couple months till he was clean.

Before he left, he visited Axl one more time. Cleared out the place, Axl was out cold (the empty bottles of whiskey were a sure indication of that); he carefully turned him on his side, so he could breathe better (recovery position, so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit).

He cleaned out his pockets too, left just enough for his ticket, leaving the neat wad of hundreds next to Axl's pretty little head.

This time it was a bit easier, because it _was_ bad, but it wasn't _Stephen_ bad.

Duff was here, (he had left him money for the rent too) and he wouldn't kick him out.

"Angel, my _saint_ , I am so fucking sorry. It's not enough but..." He choked off, looking away. "I love you." He kissed Axl's cheek softly, smiling when the redhead shifted, pulling the blankets closer. He clearly wanted someone to hold him, the sneak-cuddler that he was.

Izzy swallowed hard, god he wanted to stay. He wanted to crawl into bed and stay there forever, curled up with Axl.

He hung around for a bit longer.

Okay maybe not a _bit_.

He stayed _way_ longer than he had planned to, till sunlight was filtering through the blinds.

This was pushing it, hanging around this long, Axls lashes fluttered, he was waking up.

Izzy left, forcing himself not to look back. It was only for a little while right? Till he fixed himself. Got off the heroin. Till he didn't look this skeletal, or like he hadn't slept in years.

Just for a while.

\----------------------

 **Present** , **LA**

Axl was quiet for a long while after Izzy had stopped talking, they were almost at Duff's place now. They had decided to drive him home because god knows that man was in no condition to drive, he was in the back seat, staring listlessly out the window.

"You got clean." It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah, I got clean." Izzy mumbled, constantly glancing backwards at Duff.

Axl smiled "Me too."

"No shit, Princess."

The redhead's smile slipped away at the nickname. Princess. _Just where the hell was Slash anyway?_ He had left pretty abruptly after he got a text from Myles.

Well, at least he said it was Myles.

"Well I guess things make more sense now." He sighed, feeling exhausted. "I still wanna kick your ass. You asked _Duff_ to look out for me?"

"Yeah, dropped me extra cash for the rent." Duff said, chuckling. "You're the most _annoying_ babysitting job ever."

Axl rolled his eyes "Fuck you."

They got Duff into bed a little after eight; Axl took special notice of how everything was in order.

"You've been doing housekeeping?" He asked.

Duff laughed self depreciatingly, "Was preparing for Steven to come home. Uhm, that went well."

"It's okay, I know where he's staying." Izzy whispered, "I'll go check on him later."

The bassist nodded, eyes heavy "You'll stay with me a while longer?"

"We're downstairs if you need us." Axl assured him before closing the door gently behind them.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, glancing at the decor. "This is a nice place."

"He earned it." Izzy stretched, throwing his feet unto Axl's lap. "Where's Sugar?"

Oh yeah. That reminded him. Axl fished his phone from his pants and dialed Slash's number, maybe he could get a ride home. Slash's phone rang, then went to voicemail. Huffing, he tried again. Nothing.

Izzy peered at him, chewing on his lip. "You okay over there?"

Was he? Axl didn't know, he sent a quick text to Slash before shoving his phone back into his pocket. He was being stupid. Maybe his battery was dead or something. "Yeah I'm fine."

"Hmm." Bullshit. "Come here."

Axl hesitated before shifting closer, till Izzy was almost in his lap.

The brunette laughed, "Hello."

The redhead blushed, "Hey."

"You look lovely today." Izzy winked, shifting so he was planted in Axl's lap.

"You're not looking so bad either." Axl pulled Izzy's hat off, mussing up his hair. "You look like that guy on the front of those magazines you had back then."

The corner of a Izzy's mouth twitched, "Hmm did you just compare me to a gay porn star?"

"Uhm..." Well when he put it like that. "Yes."

Izzy quirked a brow, plush lips slightly parted. "You're a fan then?"

Axl's throat was dry, "Uhm, you could say that, yeah."

The brunette smiled, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "C'mere baby."

And maybe Axl whimpered and leaned towards him like he was starved, but he'd deny that to his dying day. Izzy's lips were as soft as he remembered, everything he wanted. Everything he ever needed. His tongue wicked and skilled, slipping into his mouth and turning his thoughts to mush. Izzy was undoing his belt, and Axl couldn't remember the rules, not when Izzy's hand was giving him the perfect amount of pressure, squeezing him through his boxers.

"Izzy please." Please what? Axl's hips bucked and Izzy made a sound in the back of his throat.

"Please what?"

Please stop. Don't ever stop. God, he didn't know his own mind. Izzy waited, hand warm on Axl's growing erection.

"Talk to me Angel." His hand was moving now, just slightly, up and down, teasing.

"Stop." He breathed, "We said no touching."

The brunette removed his hand, sliding it upwards over Axl's abs, up, up, till he stopped over his racing heart.

"Okay." He said, "Just kissing." Then his mouth was back and all Axl's guilt went away, when was the last time they had kissed like this? It felt like ages, and maybe Izzy shouldn't have been sitting sideways on his lap because that was a bad angle, but Axl still managed to grip his waist and pull him right against where he needed him most.

Izzy squeaked around his laughter, breath washing hot over Axl's face. "Christ kid, is that all for me?"

The redhead groaned, rubbing up against the brunette's ass, "Yeah."

But then his phone was ringing, the vibrations startling him. He shoved his hand into his pocket upsetting Izzy on his lap who had to cling to Axl's shirt to avoid falling.

He cleared his throat, "Hello?"

"Hey it's me."

"Slash?" Just how breathless and guilty did he sound?

"Yeah, sorry my uh... Phone was off."

"Ask him how's Myles." Izzy breathed into his hair, shifting around in his lap and grinding against his hard on.

Words. He could use those. "Uhm, Myles there?"

"Who?" Slash sounded confused for a while, but then he was chuckling. "Oh, uh... He left a while ago. Uhm, where should I pick you up?"

Axl closed his eyes, clinging to Izzy's waist. He could spot the lie from half a mile away. "I'm at Duff's place." Slash hung up and Axl buried his face into Izzy's shoulder, squeezing the phone so tight the metal cut into his palm.

The brunette stopped messing around, wounding his hand into Axl's hair. "What's up, Red?" He voice lowered, "What'd he do?"

Axl shook his head, holding Izzy for a while longer before pushing him away. "I'm sure its nothing, gotta go Iz. Take care of him for me."

Izzy watched him head out, trying not to rip his hair out in frustration. "And who's gonna take care of you, huh?"

Axl smiled, "I can take care of myself."

Izzy wasn't so sure.


	14. Chapter 14

Slash didn't say much about Axl's dishevelled state, nor did he Axl comment on Slash's earlier slip up.

They talked about everything but the elephant in the room, casually commenting that James was coming back soon, and his parents would be coming to dinner.

"You're good with your dad right?" Axl asked, never having met the man before. "He won't get mad about... His son.. Dating a man?"

Slash snorted, "He can’t, he's not so straight himself."

"Oooh, a family of queers." The guitarist laughed, pulling into their driveway.

"Yeah well, don't let Ola hear that."

"Wait... Is she...?"

"Why don't _you_ ask her, dear?" And okay, maybe that wasn't a good idea. They went to bed early, but it was a while before sleep came to them.

"Slash..." Axl trailed off, unsure of how to breach the topic.

"Hmm?"

"Goodnight." He sighed, turning away, pulling the covers over his head.

Slash bit his tongue, hating himself. "Yeah. Night."

\------------------------------

They're back in the studio again when Amy called. Izzy couldn't get Steven to show and the album was on hold while they tried to figure out just what the fuck to do about their lack of a drummer.

"Axl did you hear?" The redhead sighed, put the phone on speaker and dropped it on top of the piano.

"Hear what?"

"Hey Amy!" Slash yelled, lowering his guitar.

"Hey Slash, is Axl still a pain in the ass?"

"Is he ever not?" Duff snorted, laughing when Axl shoots him a glance.

"Shut up. Hear what?" He elbowed Izzy who was trying to snatch the phone away.

"About Carl? Huh, figured it would be on the news or something."

The boys quieted down, "What about Carl?" Axl's heart was loud in his ears.

"Uhm... His store burned to the ground man, everything he owned. Including, well, _himself."_

"What?" He couldn't breathe, the whole room was silent.

"Fuck Axl, he burned to death. In his store. And to top it all off, no one knows what started the fire." Amy sighed, "the whole place is flat, and what's even weirder, they found him in his chair-- what was left of him anway, in his office, what's left of it that is; I mean if a guy is burning to death, wouldn't he be running around? Trying to get out? The doors weren't locked or anything. And how the fuck did the whole place burn so quickly? The authorities claimed there was no sign of arson, or any faulty wiring—"

Amy was still rambling on, but Axl wasn't listening, no one was at this point. Instead they were staring at Izzy who didn't exactly look shocked at the news.

He sipped his coffee calmly, silver bangles catching the sun, fingers tapping on the piano.

"Uh... Hello? Axl?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry Amy I spaced out. Yeah that's uh... some weird shit."

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He cleared his throat, "Uhm anyway, I'll talk to you later." He hung up, eyes never leaving Izzy's face.

The brunette lowered his coffee, "What?"

"What did you do?" The redhead breathed out, fighting the laughter trying to force its way up.

Izzy smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "About what?"

Axl snorted, "Izzy..." He tried to keep his face schooled.

"You think _I_ lit Señor Carl's supermarket on fire?" He was grinning now, sauntering over to Axl, "How could I? I'm all the way in LA, what could I have done?"

Duff snorted and that set Axl off, he laughed so hard his sides hurt, hand resting on Izzy's chest. "Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Izzy."

Izzy quirked a brow, feigning confusion. "What?"

"You killed him." Duff said, shaking his head with a laugh. "I have no idea how, but you did."

"Hmm..." Izzy stroked his imaginary beard. "That's illogical. I haven't seen Señor Creepy in years, I've had no contact with him."

"Nothing is _ever_ logical with you." Axl rose from the piano and shoved Izzy gently. "You... Christ Izzy I could either kill you or kiss you."

Izzy's smile slipped away, grey eyes serious. "Which one of them is it, Angel?"

The redhead bit the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest not to smile. Fuck, this was crazy. But Izzy got rid of Carl for him, he's sure. He almost wanted to cry tears of joy. "Did he suffer?"

An almost angelic smile curled Izzy's lips. "I wouldn't know, since I wasn't there. But I have good word that he died with the stench of his own burning flesh in his nostrils." He cupped Axl's face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. "But that's just speculation."

God if Izzy's lips weren't on his in a few seconds he would lose his fucking mind.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the corner of the room. Izzy and Axl turned to glance at Slash who was dragging a hand over his face.

Axl swallowed and pulled away, shocked he was caring less and less about Slash seeing them.

"Uhm.. Anyway, about Steven, can we get him into rehab? What'd he say Izzy?" He cleared his throat, putting some distance between them.

"He wants to get help, he's scared you'll kick him out."

Axl sighed, "Can't we just, give him some time off till he gets out?"

Duff shook his head, "He loses his mind every time we mention suspending him."

"But he can't exactly be in playing like that." Slash said softly. "I mean, we can’t put out stuff like that, and he can’t be on tour with us."

"I can get him into rehab, But..."

"But what?"

"It has to be soon, man. He's seriously pushing it, it's like he doesn't even wanna live anymore. He thinks you don't love him."

"I fucking hate him, so that's good." Duff snapped, biting on his lip. And maybe his voice cracked a bit and ruined everything, but Duff didn't care. He was sick and tired of chasing Steven around and dragging himself down with him.

That didn't convince anyone.

"Duff..."

"Christ Axl, I'm fucking myself up over him."

"You're not—" Axl sighed. "It's fine man, you're not the first to fuck yourself up over someone."

"He called me." The bassist said quietly, staring at the wall.

"Who? Steve? What'd he say?"

Duff laughed, "Well for one, he broke up with me.” The redhead squeezed his shoulder gently. “And uh..."

"And uh...what?" Axl narrowed his eyes.

"And to tell me he's getting a lawyer."

"A what!? What for?"

"I might have said some stuff..."

"Duff..."

"I might have told him he was fired?"

The redhead blinked, staring at Duff in silence. "You can't kick him out, it ain't your band."

"Well were you planning to keep him?" He hissed, frowning.

And okay, maybe he did have a fucking point. "Well no, but..."

"Maybe I got mad, and maybe a _little_ hurt... And maybe I threw it at him to make him hurt too. So he threatened to sue the band."

"For what?"

"Basically for robbing him, he said we tricked him into signing a contract taking away his financial interest."

"That's some grade-A bullshit." Izzy grunted, "How can he even say that?"

"He's not himself right now." Slash mumbled. "You'll be surprised how addiction can change you."

There were mumbles of agreement because they could all relate.

"Well this is a mess." Izzy sighed. "Anyway, I've been asking around and I've got some names I think we should check out, for his replacement."

"You really don't waste any time do you?" Duff snapped, glaring at the brunette.

"Well you're the one who kicked him out." He sucked in another lungful of smoke, unaffected by the blonde’s icy glare.

Duff started to reply but Axl cut him off "Boys chill. We can't do shit till we get this sorted out, so let's just go home."

The agreed on that at least.

\-----------------------------------

 **Perla** : _Come over?_

Slash peered at his phone, sighing and dropping it unto his lap.

"Something wrong Saul?" Ola asked, lowering her fork.

"Nothing." His phone went off again.

 **Perla** : _Ignoring me now? That's not a good idea._

 **Slash** : _I'm kinda busy._

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and smiled faintly. "Sorry guys. I'll turn it off."

Ola smiled, "Well if it's important..."

Axl kept his peace, eyes never leaving his plate. Slash was acting weird, everyone else could see it.

"No, it's really nothing—" His phone started to ring, he dropped his fork with a clatter, cursing a blue streak in his head. "Excuse me one second." Slash left the room, whispering harshly into the phone. "What do you want?"

"So very aggressive tonight, aren't we?" Perla purred, chuckling throatily. "That just won’t do."

"Listen, what do you want? I'm having dinner with my family—"

"I don't care, I want to see you."

Slash laughed, rubbing at the scratchy stubble on his face. "Have you lost it? Listen, we were a one time thing—"

" _One_? Try four, maybe five if we're really keeping score. You tryna get rid of me now that things are running smoothly?"

"Listen—"

"Nah, _you_ listen. You can have your fancy dinner, but do your best not to piss me off, or I'll send your little redhead some interesting pictures and screenshots. Goodnight."

Slash stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, speechless. Axl came out to check on him.

"You okay man?"

The guitarist stared at him, slowly realizing what he had gotten himself into.

"Slash..." Axl frowned, "is everything okay? Who was it?"

The brunette squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for this. "A friend of mine, uhm... It's nothing."

"Is that so?" The redhead chuckled. "Okay man."

Axl didn't believe him, fuck he wouldn't either.

Ola kept shooting him warning glances as his dad chatted with Axl about things he could barely keep track of.

After they had left, Axl confronted him, "what was the call about?"

"Axl..."

"Still haven't told me who you slept with that night."

"No one important—"

"Clearly she's important if you left the table to go talk to her."

Slash's heart stopped for a few seconds and Axl's eyes widened.

"Oh, wow, well that was meant to be a joke but..." He shook his head, "your reaction confirmed it."

"Axl..." The redhead quirked a brow, waiting, and now that he was getting a chance to talk Slash had no idea what he wanted to say. "I'm _sorry_."

"Sorry for what?" He didn't see what the big deal was, that was a few months ago.

"I don't—"

 _Wait a minute..."_ Who the fuck is it?" He snapped, "Are you still fucking her?"

"No!" Yes.

Axl rolled his eyes, “you’re a fucking liar!'

"You're one to talk." He hissed.

"Me? I've never fucking lied to you Slash! I'm not the one who fucked some bitch behind your back!"

The guitarist shook his head, turning his back  to search the room for his car keys. "We gonna pretend you're not fucking Izzy?!"

Axl let out an honest to god giggle, not able to believe just what he was hearing. "You think I'm fucking Izzy? Tough shit man, sorry to disappoint, but I'm not."

"Bull."

"Why would I be fucking Izzy?! I'm not you."

Slash rounded on Axl, anger clouding his mind. "Why do you even fucking care about Perla?! Aren't you too busy throwing yourself at Izzy?" He realized a minute too late what he had allowed to slip.

Axl stared at him blankly, "Perla? You fucked, better yet, you've been fucking _Perla?_ You hate me that much, huh? You'd rather fuck Perla?! Your psycho ex-wife you hate so much?!"

Slash found his keys just as James was coming in to offer them leftover dessert.

"I'm going out." He snapped, grabbing his coat and storming out.

Axl snorted, following hot on his heels. "To meet _her_? Well you can just not bother to come back!"

"That's bullshit! It's my fucking house!" He cried.

Axl spluttered, eyes filling with stinging tears. "Are you asking me to _leave_?"

"Axl, _no._.." Slash hesitated. "I'm not —"

"I sure fucking wish I fucked Izzy!" He spat, meaning every word of it. He shook his head and turned on his heels, brushing past James without a word. He heard the door slam forcefully, and OK, maybe Slash had left without coming up to talk like he had hoped. Axl didn't sleep in their bedroom; instead he grabbed his sheets and headed for the guest room. Fine, if Slash didn't want him there, he'd get his own place first thing in the morning.

James sighed, glancing at the extra chocolate cake. It seemed things wouldn't be okay for a long time.

\------------------------------

"Izzy, where's Axl?"

The brunette looked up from his guitar at Duff. "No idea. Where's Slash?"

Duff sighed, "We're the only ones here. I thought everyone would have been here for something this important." They were supposed to be overseeing the auditions for a drummer today, but his band mates apparently thought differently.

"I tried calling him but he won't pick up." Duff frowned, "Should we try again?"

He shook his head, Axl probably didn't want to be bothered. "Nope. We'll find someone." Izzy winked, "how much do you know about drumming?"

The blond chuckled, elbowing Izzy gently. "I'll have you know I started out playing the drums."

"Were you any good?"

"God no, why do you think I switched to bass?"

\-----------------------------

It had been almost a week and Slash still hadn't showed up.

Axl did get around to buying a house (he had hoped Slash would show up and talk him out of it, James sure tried).

He kept receiving worried calls from Duff and Izzy, he fumbled through them half-heartedly.

"You gotta meet this Matt guy, he's great." Duff was trying his best to cheer him up.

"Mmf."

"And Izzy's through writing his song, and of course it’s about moving on and what not—"

"Uh huh."

"—what's wrong?"

"Slash is cheating on me."

Silence.

"Uhm—"

"With Perla, his bitch ex-wife." Axl rolled unto his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "So yeah. _That's_ probably why he hasn't been showing up at the studio."

"Christ Axl, are you okay?"

"Yeah, _sure_. You guys wanna help me move my stuff?"

"Uh isn't, uhm are you two... _over_?"

The redhead sighed, feeling a sinking in his gut. "Dunno. We're not exactly on _speaking_ terms. So just... I got a house, not too far away; you guys wanna come over and help me out? It's just my clothes, not much." That was absolute bullshit and they both knew it, between his huge closet and his collection of books, there was a whole lot of shit to move.

"Yeah sure, we'll be right over. I'm sorry man."

"Yeah, me too."

They showed up around eight, greeted James politely and headed upstairs to find Axl.

" _Wow_." Izzy commented, taking Axl's ragged appearance. "You look like shit."

The redhead smiled weakly, "Thanks man. Can we just get this shit in the car?"

They worked in silence and Axl kept expecting Slash to walk through the door and make sense of this mess, because he'd drop everything if he'd just ask.

"Axl," James sighed, "You really don't have to leave. Slash didn't mean what he said."

"How much did you hear?"

He smiled a bit "Enough, just please think things through."

"Don't worry," Axl said, trying to reassure them both. "It's nothing permanent, just till we can sort things out."

"It's still sad to watch you two fight like this."

"I know, I'm sorry it couldn't work out differently. I'll call you when I'm home." And that felt odd, calling somewhere else home.

"Drive safe."

It was almost midnight when they gave up. Axl resolved to leave some of his shit in boxes till the morning because he was both hungry and tired.

"Wanna stay for pizza?"

Duff pat him on the back "Nah, I’m gonna head out."

Izzy shrugged, “I’ll hang around for the free food."

The pizza was cold by the time it arrived, but they forced it down in relative silence anyway. Izzy was itching to ask just what was up with Axl, Duff had made some vague allusion to relationship problems, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

It wasn’t until Axl had laid in his lap without a word that he asked. "Why."

"Why did he cheat?"

"Nah, why did you move? You two breaking up or something?" Izzy's expression was hard to read, was he happy they were almost over? Had he seen the whole thing from a mile away?

"We had a fight."

Izzy smirked, twirling strands of Axl's hair around his finger. "So what? You buy a fifteen _million_ dollar mansion?"

The redhead finally cracked, letting out a peal of laughter. "Yeah well, I've always been a _bit_ impulsive."

The brunette nodded. "Just a bit."

Axl rolled over, nuzzling Izzy's stomach. "He's cheating on me with Perla. He thought we... that we were fucking."

Axl's warm breath tickled his stomach through his thin shirt. The brunette's breath quickened, "Did he now?"

"Yeah." He pressed closer, taking in the scent that was purely Izzy. "I should've. Fuck the rules. Fuck everything. Izzy I want you so bad."

The brunette swallowed, "Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you want revenge?"

Axl peered up at him. "Both."

Izzy chuckled weakly, "Yeah, I thought so. Come on, let's go to bed, you're tired."

"You rejecting my proposal?"

"Nope, I'm putting you to bed." Izzy smiled, "Want me to sleep with you?"

Axl considered that, the security of having Izzy near him, of being held tight in his arms. "Yeah, please."

"Sure, Angel."

\-----------------------

"So you've finally decided to show up?" James was waiting for him in the living room, voice dripping disdain.

Slash sighed, "Morning." He was surprised he managed to get a word out, he was so doped up he could barely see straight. He was stumbling up the stairs when the older man called out to him again.

James stirred his tea, spoon clinking gently against the sides of his cup. "He left last night."

Slash froze, whole world stopping for a second. "What?" He forced out, clinging to the banister for dear life.

"He. Left. You." The man grit out, voice shaking with rage. "He left you while you were out all week with Perla." It wasn't the first time, he had pulled stunts like this in the past while married to Perla; James was no fan of her, but he didn't encourage Slash's activities. Not then, not now.

"James..."

"No." He sighed, "Just don't bother." James' footsteps echoed as he walked away. Slash had never felt so much like shit in his life.

He managed to force himself through a scalding hot shower and cold cereal.

He paced around the living room, braving the stifling silence. Should he call? Would he even answer?

The phone rang three times before someone picked up.

He swallowed, "Uh... Hey, Axl."

"Hmm, think again, Sugar." Izzy sounded like the cat that got the cream.

Slash "What are you doing— where are you?"

"At Axl's shiny new house, it's really nice."

"Just _why_ the fuck are—"

"Breaking in the new bed." Slash could almost see the smug smirk stretching his lips. "Why are you so angry? Didn't you leave him for...? What's her face? Pearls?"

The guitarists grip tightened around the phone. " _I_ didn't leave him. But you'd know all about leaving wouldn't you?"

" _Don’t_ talk about shit you don’t understand." Izzy's tone darkened. "And I'd watch my tone if I were you, Sugar."

"Or what?!" He hissed. "Where's Axl?"

"Or _else_. I don't need to go much further than that." The smile in Izzy's voice made his words twice as ominous. "He's asleep. He can't talk to you right now. Go _fuck_ yourself."

He stood there listening to the dial tone for about five minutes, trembling.

"What have I fucking done?"

Miles away, Izzy lowered the phone, staring blankly at the wall deep in thought. Axl shifted, wrapping a hand around his waist.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, some douche bag in a top hat."

Axl snorted softly, "What'd he want?"

"To talk to you I assume. He sounded stoned out of his mind."

The redhead's hand slipped under his oversized sleep shirt, resting on his abdomen. "Hmm... Fuck him." He wasn't ready to deal with that shit; he just needed some rest and comfort.

Izzy grinned."Hey that's what I told him." He rolled over to face Axl. "You look like shit."

"Again with the compliments."

"Come kiss me."

The redhead wrinkled his nose, "My breath stinks."

"Yeah well, _you_ stink." Axl laughed, sleepily attacking him with a pillow. This felt right, lazing around together in a bed too large for just the two of them.

"I love you, no matter what." Axl muttered, "Insults and all."

Izzy smiled. "I love you too, Angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Real Life' Steven sued them for that, taking his royalties and forcing him to sign a fucked up contract.  
> He won like 2 million dollars and 15% of royalties on everything he recorded before his departure.  
> Hmm.. interesting. I had no idea he won that case.


	15. Chapter 15

Slash eventually showed up a few weeks later at the studio to meet Matt and to hash out just what was being done about the album. Things were tense to say the least, Axl wouldn’t talk to him, so their manager and producer had to be carrying messages back and forth. Axl was a lot harder on him, judging his solos ruthlessly, finding almost every fault he could with it. It helped in a way, what Slash came up with for this album was brilliant.

Yeah they were being childish, but when had they ever been anything but?

“I uh… I talked to Steven.” Duff said one evening during a break. “He’s… I might be able to talk him out of the lawsuit and into rehab.” The bassist looked a lot better; staying in touch with Steven seemed to work for him. He was still drinking, but it was way less than usual, he got a shrink, was real big on resolving things by talking it out (and tried to get the others to try it too—it didn’t work).

“Yeah? That’s great.” Izzy smiled at him, “I’m glad things are working out for you two.”

“He was pissed about the whole Matt thing, but he’s beginning to see reason.”

Axl finally spoke up, “Good, I’m happy for you.” Slash glanced up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes before looking away.

“Maybe you two could… uh… figure something out too?” The bassist tried, trying to keep his tone hopeful.

“He hasn’t tried to talk to me.” The redhead sniped, going back to scribbling in his songbook.

“Would you have talked to me if I had?”

“Maybe you should try anyway.” He replied softly.

Matt’s gaze flickered from one to the other, “Has this band always been a walking soap opera?”

“Yeah,” Duff grinned. “Basically. Don’t mind me guys, I’m going home.”

“Me too,” Matt mumbled, “If it means avoiding whatever this is.”

Slash sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Axl, can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

The brunette could hardly breathe; he stopped strumming on his guitar. “Yeah?”

Izzy looked up, irritation evident in his scathing tone. “Yeah? He can?”

Axl huffed, “Yes you two. We _all_ need to fucking talk.”

“Thank you.” He was sick of living without Axl, sick of pretending everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

 “Don’t thank me yet.” He closed the book, eyeing Slash’s haggard appearance. “Ok come on, my place.”

They drove in silence, each eager to discuss things, but having no idea just how to. Axl stopped to pick up take out before heading home, knowing full well no one would want to eat, but it was the polite thing to do.

“This is a nice place.” Slash murmured as he settled on the couch. “How do you keep this clean?”

“Maids.” He replied, smirking a bit. “I’m shit at housework.” Izzy tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, sprawling in the largest one after grabbing s box of takeout.

“So…” Axl perched on the armrest, arms wrapped around himself. “What did we wanna talk about again?”

Slash shifted, “Perla. About that night, I’m sorry. I went to meet her after I stormed out in Indiana, got a text and just thought why not, ya know? So yeah, that was the first time it happened.”

“But it wasn’t the last.” Izzy said around his mouthful of lo mein.

The guitarist fixed him with an icy glare “Does _he_ have to be here?”

“Yeah, I do.” He slurped obnoxiously. “But you,” another obnoxious slurp, “ _don’t_.”

Axl’s mouth twitched, God what was he to do with these two. “Izzy, shut up. Slash, don’t mind him.”

“Anyway, yeah. I said shit I didn’t mean that night—I never wanted you to move out.” He turned to face Axl. “Indiana—that’s where it started, and after that, it was a long time before it uh… happened again.” He tapped his foot against the hardwood floor, “This time she called me, offered me heroin.” He winced, “And yeah, of course I went. Then we started seeing each other more frequently—”

Axl squeezed his eyes shut, “How frequently?”

The guitarist inspected his boots, “Maybe like, three times a month or so.”

“For how long?” he managed to force this around the lump in his throat.

“Few months.” He replied, voice barely audible. “I got jealous, and did some stupid shit. I thought you were lying to me, but this isn’t on you—it’s on me. Now, I mostly show up for the drugs, yeah, I know, it’s fucking stupid to get back on it. But now that I have, it’s kinda hard to keep saying no. Not to mention she keeps threatening to send pictures to you—blackmail I guess.”

The redhead was silent, deep in thought, fingers fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt. “What were you jealous of?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were jealous, of what?”

Slash looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Of you and Izzy, Jesus do you two even see yourselves when you’re in a room together? Stupid question, you don’t, but fuck. It’s like no one else is there, no matter how full the room is.” They seemed to be drawn to each other, while doing normal things like discussing lyrics or having lunch together, they just seemed to fit, block everyone else out, like they needed nothing and no one but each other.

“I’m sorry about that.” Axl slipped from the armrest to the couch, blinking up at the ceiling. “I haven’t been fair to you, not with anything. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He couldn’t help it, there was no force on earth that could stop him from being drawn to Izzy like this. They both knew it, hell everyone knew it, but just what the fuck was he supposed to do about that?

“I’m sorry I got jealous over nothing.” Slash sighed, “I mean, I know you guys—”

“—swapped spit?” Izzy cut in, staring into his empty takeout box with a scowl. “Because that was all we did. He’s totally a fucking tease.”

Axl choked on air, “Uhm, Izzy…”

“What?” He shrugged, “It’s true.”

“Yeah well, it was killing me to watch you go off with him like that.” It felt like his heart was being ripped in half every time he saw them together, because yeah, he loved Axl and Axl love him, but it was _different_ with them. Somehow _more_. “I’m sorry I walked out. Fuck, I’m sorry for _everything_.”

“And I’m sorry I have to sit here listening to this.” Izzy dropped the empty box unceremoniously unto the table. “Listen, Axl and I might have shared a few kisses, four to be exact, but he never did anything more—which I guess still is not fair to you, in return, you ran off with bitch ex-wife—completely pointless, all things considered. From what I hear, she hates your guts. Axl got pissed and moved out, which was impulsive and a bit stupid—no offense babe—”

“—none taken.”

“—so the best thing to do is, get clean. Drop Pearls—”

“—Perla.”

“Pearly.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, and _never_ cheat on him again. It might sound a bit double standard, but I’ll kick your ass if you do.” Izzy ended his little speech by waving his chopsticks with a flourish. “Problem solved.”

“You’re still here.” Slash groused.

Izzy blinked, “Oh wait, _I’m_ a problem? I thought it was your addiction and horrible taste in women.”

Slash made a grab at Izzy but Axl dragged him back. “Hey! _Both_ of you calm down, or I’ll kick you out.”

“See what you caused?” Izzy stuck his tongue out, snickering when Axl rolled his eyes.

“What _do_ you want with him?” Slash asked, a bit curious now.

“I should be asking you that question, you know, considering he isn’t yours to begin with.”

“Guys—”

“You just come back out of nowhere after leaving him for months—” He continued, ignoring Axl’s warning.

Izzy’s smile slipped away. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know. I had to leave him. And let’s not get it twisted, I didn’t leave him to go fuck my ex-wife like you did, I left to sort myself out.”

Slash bristled, gritting his teeth. “You’re never gonna shut up about that are you?”

“Will you ever learn to shut up about me leaving?” Izzy lit a cigarette; settling into the couch and staring Slash down. “I know why I left, _he_ knows why I left, forget about it, because I’m not leaving without him again.”

“You expect me to just sit back and let you—”

“I don’t _expect_ you to, but it would be in your best interest if you do.” He replied coolly, gaze slipping from Slash to Axl. 

“I’m standing right here,” Axl snapped. “You both need to…” Need to what? He heard Slash’s part, he more or less forgave him, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t hurt, but Izzy was there for him so it hurt a little _less_. The whole thing felt surreal. But now, what would he do? Who would his choice be?

Izzy looked away, deep in thought. Axl wondered just what was going on in his head. “I need to talk to you.”

“Me?” Axl quirked a brow.

“No, him.” He gestured in Slash’s direction. “We need to talk.”

Slash was quiet for a while, then he nodded. “We do.”

Axl blinked. “What?” Did he miss something? Were they speaking a language he didn’t understand?

“Go upstairs, the adults are talking.” Izzy laughed, “ _Go_.”

“You can’t be serious.”

They shared a look, “We’re serious. No eavesdropping.”

Axl wasn’t too sure about that idea “But—”

“You wanted us to talk? We’re gonna talk.” Izzy stared at him, “See you in a few.”

The redhead trudged up the stairs in disbelief, “Did they just kick me out of my own living room?”

In all fairness, he hadn’t planned on eavesdropping or anything, he didn’t for a while anyway. He closed his bedroom door and turned the TV up loud, but after a few hours had passed, he got real concerned. They hadn’t killed each other, had they? He would have heard it, but Izzy was a sneaky little bitch at best and a ninja at worst. He cracked his door slowly, muting the TV and sticking his head out.

 _“So, if he chose me,” That was Izzy’s voice, he was certain. “You could survive? No hard feelings?”_ Axl’s breath quickened, he should have known the fuckers would be discussing him.

_“Well I’d live I suppose, but I wouldn’t be too excited about it.”_

_“You realize you gotta drop this Pearl person.”_

_“Already have,” He sighed, “this was the last time, I made it pretty clear.”_

_“You promise me you won’t do that again, Sugar?” A pause and then, “You’re not a bad guy, in fact, you’re a great guy. You two are good for each other.”_

_“Well so are you two—”_

_Izzy chuckled “I know, but that’s not the point. Things don’t always work out the way you want them to, I know that, I’m just making sure you know that too.”_

He heard the clink of glasses, were they drinking? He would slaughter Slash if he decided to drain all his expensive liquor.

_“I know that. I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t know the whole story, the real reason you had to go. It was… I gotta admit, it kinda get why you did it.”_

_“Kinda?”_

_“That’s all you’re getting from me.”_

_“Aww Sugar, you’ve got me tearing up—it’ll ruin my makeup.”_

He heard them laughing and then that was it, they lowered their voices, whispering about something else he couldn’t make out. Heart pounding, Axl returned to bed, turning up the TV again, trying to deduce just what the fuck that was about.

He startled out of his seat at the sound of the front door slamming and footsteps climbing his stairs. He held his breath as the door opened, steeling himself to face whoever he saw.

“Uhm,” Slash stood there, smiling faintly. “Izzy says goodnight.”

“Did he now?” Axl sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How long were they down there?

“Yeah, uhm… Do you want me to go?”

The redhead smiled, “Nah, come to bed. I’m tired of sleeping alone.”

\---------------------------------

Work on the album went a lot smoother when they weren’t at each other’s necks. Duff couldn’t stop smiling because _finally_ someone tried his ‘talk it out’ method, and it actually worked fine. Everyone was impressed, managers, producers, the record company.

“What’s that November Rain song about, huh?” The producer asked one day. “It’s gonna be a real hit, I can feel it.”

Axl quirked a brow, voice dripping sarcasm “It’s about rain. In November.”  And ok, he might have written a few songs while he was still fighting with Slash and he was just a bit bitter, but no one needed to know that.

“Wow Axl, your inner bitch is showing.” Matt commented, dodging the empty coffee cup the redhead tossed at his head. And that was that, no one questioned his songs anymore and he didn’t have to bite their heads off any more than usual.

Izzy and Slash, now that was a whole different story. They were getting along like a house on fire, (or a supermarket on fire—Duff mumbled once and Axl couldn’t have stopped himself from cracking up even if he wanted to). They weren’t exactly bosom pals, but they weren’t fighting that much anymore.

They still took every chance they got to insult each other, but that was that. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and it was beginning to show in their work.

“This might be my favorite album ever.” Slash mused.

Izzy snorted “Why, the obnoxiously lengthy guitar solos?”

The guitarist rolled his eyes, “Haha. No. We have you on tape… singing… I thought I’d never see the day. You sound like shit by the way.”

Axl giggled, ducking when they both turned to stare at him. “You hear something funny, Princess?”

“Is this amusing you, Angel?”

Axl beamed up at them, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “It’s hilarious. You two argue like a married couple.”

Slash spluttered, “We are so not—”

Izzy threw a hand around his shoulder, grinning impishly. “It’s meant to be.”

 Slash chuckled and returned the favour, “You jealous?”

The photographer captured them like that, sprawled in the couch with their arms around each other and it remained Axl’s favorite photo for years to come.

The release date got closer and closer, the nights got longer, at one point Slash was sleeping at the studio—but they managed to pull it off.

Use your Illusion.

“Maybe we should split it in half?” He mused, “So fans can afford it. Make it two volumes.”

Duff hummed, “Well it makes sense, but doesn’t splitting it in two lower our chances for success? I mean, we’re releasing two different albums? At the same time?”

“Just part one and two.” Axl replied, swiveling in his chair. God, he had been living on coffee and donuts. If Aishe or Ola could see him now, they’d give him a proper chewing out about his health.

The bassist shrugged “You’re the boss, boss.”

On September 17th they promptly released the albums, returning to their respective houses for their first good night’s sleep in week. Axl could barely sleep, he tossed and turned, keeping Slash awake.

“Baby, you seriously need to stay still.”

“I’m fucking trying okay?” He snapped, huffing in annoyance. “What if it doesn’t go as planned?”

“It’s fine, it’ll do fine.” He rolled onto Axl. “Now sleep, or I’ll have to sleep on top of you to keep you still.”

It just turned out that Slash was right. They topped the charts, well UYI II topped the charts, UYI I held steady at number 3 (which was more than he was hoping for). They managed to break records too, November Rain being the longest song to in history to ever get in the top ten of the Billboard charts. Money was rolling in from every direction and Axl hardly knew what to do with it.

And maybe he shouldn’t have jinxed himself, because the law suits came swiftly, one behind the other. Steven went through with it, forced them to cancel a number of shows by dragging Axl to court.

“Is he fucking serious? That’s what his lawyer called it? The spaghetti incident?” Duff rolled his eyes. “It was just a food fight, why turn it into such a big deal?”

Axl flipped his bangs from his eyes, “Because he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Watch it.”

“No offense, Duff.” They were at Duff’s place, drinking cranberry juice (because Duff was trying on the whole ‘sober’ thing for size, and Axl didn’t want to be the asshole by sipping liquor right in front of him). “But I’m getting sick of this shit. I mean, his lawyer started questioning my lyrics, man. Went as far back as Appetite. All these lawsuits are fucking up our tour dates.”

The bassist snorted, “Yeah, I was watching.” He choked on his juice, taking in Axl’s pissed off expression. He cleared his throat, mimicking Steven’s lawyer “So, Mr. Rose, about The Spaghetti Incident…?” 

Axl tilted his head, gazing off thoughtfully into the distance. “We should make that the name of our cover album, out of spite.”

“Cover album?”

The redhead nodded “Oh sure, every band has one.”

“The Spaghetti Incident, huh?” He drained the last of his juice from the glass. “Sounds _fancy_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going through these chapters and fixing the errors, since I tend to just switch tenses right off the bat (my English teacher would headbutt me, then foam at the mouth with rage), so I'm sorry if it comes up as a new update? (does it do that?) It's not, just... don't mind me..


	16. Chapter 16

The worst of the lawsuits were over and Axl was growing restless. _Why weren’t they touring again?_

“We have to wait and see if anything else will come up.” Their manager said. “We can’t afford to cancel any more shows, the fans won’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Duff added. “So please try to stop breaking everyone’s face.”

He was _trying_ and all, trying to work on his temper and control his smart mouth—but really, what was a guy to do? California was a breeding ground for assholes that made it their duty to piss him off, be it the press, celebrities or random people who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. People were becoming concerned, well, not his band mates, since they were more or less used to his bullshit now. But outsiders, managers, producers, well-wishers, and others he didn’t give a fuck about.

It was always:

“Oh, Axl, you need to calm down.”

“Axl I don’t think this behaviour is normal.”

Or, worst of all:

“Axl, shouldn’t you see a doctor? I know a guy…”

No. _No_ he wouldn’t be seeing a doctor. _No_ , there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe people needed to just work on not pissing him off for once. So what if he had landed a punch on an asshole reporter, what was the big deal? He deserved it for talking shit about Slash.

So things had finally calmed down, the lawsuits had tapered off, and Axl had had lots of time to think. To think about everything and to notice things he never would have noticed before.

Like how Izzy and Slash were perfectly at peace.

Like how he felt great, slept well (whenever the both slept over at his house), how he was smiling most of the time. How he was filling out his clothes (Duff liked to tease him about his chubby cheeks)

Like how Duff had taken up the bottle again and Steven had moved away.

Like how Izzy spent a lot of time staring out the window silently, deep in thought.

The last one bothered him the most, because he had never seen Izzy like this before. He was always thinking hard about something, seemingly trying to make a tough decision.

“What are you looking at little gypsy?” He asked one day, wrapping his arms around the man.

“I’m wondering what the weather in Greece is like.” And that should have been his first clue, but when Axl wanted to ignore something, he ignored it.

Their manager gave them the OK to start their warm up shows in a few weeks, and the boys are crawling out of their skins with excitement. Finally, back on the road, back on stage, back to what they loved.

He was at a gathering at Izzy’s house (the boys had taken a liking to it since it was so close to the beach and very discreet) when his phone rang.

He rolled off Slash’s lap and walked to the nearby window “Hey Amy.”

“Yo Amy!” Slash shouted at his back, grinning. The redhead rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the call.

“Slash says ‘Yo’.”

Amy sounded panicked at best. “Axl, Axl something’s wrong with dad.”

 _Ah, Steve-o finally kicked the bucket, huh?_ He thought to himself, smiling faintly. Of course he didn’t _say_ it, because that would be horrible and Amy would probably start crying.

“Something like what?”

“They have him in custody, they say he seemed to have gone… mad.”

Axl let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I’m sorry and all Amy, but Stephen has been mad since the beginning of time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She sniped. “But he didn’t usually walk around town naked while toting his shotgun, did he? Shooting at ‘Demons’ apparently.”

The redhead felt horrible for laughing again, so he did his best to stifle it. Duff shot him a cursory glance, but Axl waved him off. “What the hell? He finally lost it, did the _angels_ tell him to do that too?”

She paused uncertainly, “The church burned down. I think that’s what finally did it.”

Axl held the phone away from his ear and rolled his eyes, trying his best to find some sympathy deep down. He failed. “It burned down? He fell asleep with his cigarette still lit?”

“It’s not funny, Axl.” She cried, “He could have died. Luckily he wasn’t at church at the time. And again, no one knows what started it, the church was completely empty. Ain’t _that_ weird?” Axl wasn’t sure if she was accusing him of something, or if it was just an innocent question, but he decided to ignore it.

 _Weird indeed_. He sighed, “Where are you?”

“Back home. They won’t let him out, they say he’s dangerous. Pa ain’t never been dangerous Ax—”

“Amy.” He took a deep breath. “I know he’s your dad and all, and that for some fucked up reason you _still_ love him. But I think it’s time to stop lying to yourself.” Slash was watching him now, slightly concerned. “He is a _madman_ , and I’m surprised no one realized till now.”

Amy was silent for a while, nothing but her shuddering breaths coming over the line. “The bank is gonna sell the house, apparently he wasn't making payments… if someone doesn’t pay—”

Axl scrubbed a hand over his face, “Okay, listen. I’ll wire you the money. Buy the farm, pay them whatever they want—but only because you asked. I’m real sorry about your father Amy.”

“He’s your dad too he raised you—”

“I’m sorry kiddo, but I think it’s best if I go, because I have no idea how you consider what Stephen did ‘raising’.” He closed his eyes. “Goodbye, Amy. Stay safe.” He ended the call and stood there for a while, just staring down at the phone.

“Is everything alright, Axl?” Slash asked.

“Uhuh, peachy.” Izzy had come up from the beach with Matt, and stood there dripping in the doorway. “Hey Izzy, got some news from our dear little town.”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah, the Reverends sacred institution burned down.” He quirked a brow, “Weird right?”

Izzy hummed, wrapping a towel around him “Did he burn down with it?”

“Unfortunately, he did not.” Axl caught himself before the laughter spilled out, voice shaking. “Uh… he’s in custody. They found him walking around town naked… shooting at demons.” Duff and Slash started laughing so hard Axl had to raise his voice over the ruckus.

The brunette smiled slyly. “Well he’s certainly adopted a hands-on approach to fighting evil.”

“Woah, wait.” Duff sat up, still chuckling a bit “The reverend’s church is flat? Fancy that.”

“Apparently.” Izzy said, aiming for innocent and missing it by a mile. “Such a dang shame.”

Duff wasn’t buying it, a smile spread on his face. “What’d you do?”

Izzy huffed, blinking rapidly, pressing a hand to his chest to clutch his towel. “Why am I always accused of things like these?”

Axl giggled, sliding down the wall till he was seated on the hardwood floor. “I don’t even know how…”

Slash snorted “Because… it’s you.”

Izzy smiled sweetly, silvery eyes catching the sun. “You don’t believe in such silly things as _magic_ , do you?”

The boys were quiet, watching him with awe-filled eyes. The brunette shrugged and walked towards the stairs. “No, I didn’t think so.” He winked, “I’ll be getting dressed in my room if you need my magic.”

Slash huffed, “Remind me _never_ to cross him.”

Duff cleared his throat, “Am I going crazy or…”

 “You’re not.” Axl smiled, feeling warmth curl in his chest. It was probably telling that he had never wanted to fuck his homicidal gypsy more than now. “I guess he can cross them off his list.” He really wished Stephen would suffer, and he had a feeling the old man would.

\------------------------------------

Izzy was sprawled on his couch, thinking, while Axl and Slash were doing the dishes. Duff had excused himself after dinner to go meet someone (no one doubted it was Steven) and Axl talked Slash into staying over.

He was thinking a lot lately.

About Slash, about Axl, about leaving. When he was younger, Aishe always played Willie Nelson, and at the age of twelve he had found on specific lyric stupid. They would dance around the kitchen to it, or more accurately, Aishe would twirl around the island while Izzy sat with his little legs crossed, playing guitar with a wooden spoon.

 

_The winds of change are always blowing, and every time I try to stay,_

_The winds of change continue blowing, and they just carry me away._

_“Mother, why would the winds carry him away?” He wrinkled his nose, confused. “Is he a really small man?”_

_Aishe laughed like he had said the funniest thing in the world. “Well, Izzy, you might not get it now. But you’ll get it eventually, I’m sure.”_

 

He couldn’t stay, it would probably kill him—he had never once convinced himself that he could. But he wouldn’t leave without Axl, he couldn’t imagine life without him.

Axl sauntered into the living room while Slash went upstairs to shower, plopping down next to Izzy on the sofa. “Hey, loser.”

The brunette snorted, chucking a pillow at him. “Am I the one who freaked out at the eighth grade talent show? No. Therefore, your statement is invalid.”

The redhead wrinkled his nose, cheeks flushing. “You’ll never let it go.”

“ _Never_.” He agreed.

Axl peered at him for a while, tilting his head thoughtfully. “What did you two losers talk about last time anyway?”

“You.” He replied calmly. There was no use in lying, and Axl’s smirk faltered for half a second before returning full-force.

“Fucking _knew_ it.” Axl flicked his hair from his face. “I’m obviously something to gossip about.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “We were talking about your stupid bangs.”

The redhead gasped, scandalized. “You told me you _liked_ them.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a dirty liar.” Axl crawled over to him and planted his ass on Izzy’s stomach, chuckling like he had pulled off some evil plot. “What in the shit are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on you.” He said, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “ _Obviously_ causing you great pain and discomfort—hey quit _laughing_!” Izzy couldn’t help it, he shook with the force of his laughter, the movement alone managing to upset Axl’s seating.

“Wow. You sure got me there.” He said blandly, lips twitching. “How will I ever recover from this pain? This agony?”

“What are you idiots doing?” Slash blinked at them, wondering why Axl was seated on Izzy’s stomach, feet hanging off the side of the sofa, swinging happily.

“I’m torturing Izzy.” He snapped. “He’s making fun of me.”

“Hey, don’t start battles you can’t finish.” Izzy murmured, shifting and pushing Axl off him. Watching, amused, as he landed on the hardwood floor with a thump.

“Uh huh, right.” Slash said slowly, backing out of the room. “So, will you both just come to bed please? And try not to kill each other while you’re at it?”

They called a truce and headed upstairs to bed. Axl liked it when they both slept over, he slept better—the best he had slept in years, no nightmares, no tossing, no turning. He just slept.

He’s doing just that when he heard Slash and Izzy mumbling.

"You promise?" Izzy whispered, "Slash I can't have you hurting him like that."

"I promise." Slash answered, "I swear, it wont happen again.

Izzy paused before whispering, "I believe you." He left afterwards, and Axl had no idea where he went.

"What time is it?" He groaned, startling Slash.

"Jesus, you gotta quit that." He muttered, "It's two am."

"C'mere." Axl couldn't tell just why he needed to be held, but he did and he knew damn well Slash would oblige. "Let's make love."

"But Izzy-"

"I don't care." He wouldn't care if a group of paparazzi had walked in at that very moment, he needed this.

They made love passionately, movements slow and unhurried by sleep. Axl rode Slash till his thighs ached, head thrown back, whimpers spilling freely from his lips. Slash was telling him things he'd never said before, promising him forever, just taking whatever Axl saw it fit to offer, breath hitching, eyes wide, hand clutching Axl's hips. The redhead smirked, he loved this, being in control, setting whatever pace he wanted, he intended to drag this out for as long as he wanted, to torture them both with the pleasure, but then, Izzy came back.

"I've been gone for forever and you're still at it?" He sounded amused at best, Axl could feel his eyes burning into his back. He choked back a moan, quickening his movements. "He keepin' you hostage?"

Slash sobbed a little (or laughed), "He's being- _fuck-_ extremely bossy."  And he didn't even sound surprised, just keyed-up and ready to break down.

Izzy chuckled, "You wanna cum?" Axl was close, so fucking close, even more so 'cause Izzy was right there. Voice floating around him, brushing against his skin, almost like an invisible touch.

Slash's hips jerked, but the redhead growled and stilled. "Yeah, that would be nice."

"Axl?" Izzy called, the bed sunk under his weight and Axl's pulse skyrocketed, even higher than before. He was barely breathing anymore. "Cum for me."

And that was, unsurprisingly, all it took to set him off-- without his fucking permission. He clenched up tight, cumming all over them both, Slash tensed beneath him, and he could only assume (with what was left of his brain cells) that his own orgasm had caused it. 

"Oh _God,"_ Axl breathed, all but ready to collapse on top of Slash. He rolled off him at the final second, hissing as Slash's softening length slipped out of him. "You keep thwarting my plans."

"Not all heroes wear capes." Izzy shot back amicably.

Slash started giggling, a weak little thing, which soon turned into gut-aching laughter. Soon, all three of them were laughing at how fucking ridiculous their lives had become, at how ridiculously happy they were, and once they started, the couldn't stop.

Afterwards, when they were clean and tucked into bed, Axl stayed up listening to every sound, heart racing. When he finally did drift off, his pillow was damp with his silent tears.

\-----------------------------

He should have known, nah scratch that, he _did_ know. He just didn’t want to _accept_ it.

Izzy slipped him a card with ‘Gilby Clarke’ written on it in his loopy scrawl. A number was beneath it, Axl stared down at the card, then back at Izzy, question not needing to be voiced.

“Gilby is a friend of mine; he’s good at what he does.” Was all he said before walking out of Axl’s office and through his front door. The redhead briefly considered ripping it to shreds, hating it and what it stood for, but instead, he calmly lowered it to his desk, hands shaking.

The second time was a lot more comical. They were drunk and having their own private party, jumping about and making a complete mess of Slash’s house (it was a wonder James hadn’t tossed them out on their heads) when Izzy put on ‘Sweet Emotion’. Axl didn’t mind it, he was far too drunk to fuss about Izzy changing Elvis for Aerosmith.

_Talking ‘bout things and nobody cares._

_Wearing other things that nobody wears._

_You’re calling my name, but I gotta make it clear_

_I can’t say, baby, where I’ll be in a year._

He had no idea what drew his eyes to Izzy’s at that precise moment, but there he was, drunk and dizzy, standing half-on top of Duff.  And Izzy was just staring back at him, head cocked to the side, eyes sad. So of course, he did what he had always done. Sang louder and danced harder, ignoring what was staring him in the face—literally.

Even if he acted like it sometimes, he really wasn’t that dense. He got the message Izzy was trying to send.

So he _might_ have tried to keep Izzy closer, invite him over often as he could, even if it was to do nothing but sit in comfortable silence together, or talk about the past. He snuck kisses whenever he could too, ignoring the little stabs of guilt he felt as a result. He didn’t care; he needed this like people needed oxygen. Needed to have him sprawled in his lap and his silky black hair slipping through his fingers. Needed to have those moments of complete silence where they did nothing but stare at each other, eyes filled with love and promises that went without saying.

And maybe Slash understood that he needed it too, maybe he saw it coming from a mile away, because he gave them their time. Their space. Didn’t look haunted or hurt when they shared only a look before bursting into laughter, because that was just them, and he had long since accepted it.

But Axl, Axl didn’t know _how_ to accept. He never _accepted_ his fate back in Indiana, he never _accepted_ Stephen’s bullshit God, he never _accepted_ the pitiful glances he’d get from the townspeople, he never _accepted_ shit from anyone. So this was no different.

Izzy had slept over, curled up on Axl’s right and radiating welcoming heat. Slash was on his left, breathing warm little puffs of air on his bare shoulder, curly hair tickling his skin, and yeah, he was—complete. Full. Content.

It was stupid and selfish and unrealistic (and a whole bunch of other things, he’s sure) to think it would ever stay this way (to _want_ it to stay this way), and Axl knew he would pay dearly for it. For this slice of happiness. So when he woke the next morning, feeling strangely cold, he wasn’t exactly surprised, but that didn’t stop his heart from sinking through the expensive sheets and right down to the floor. Maybe all the way down to the basement, if he was being honest.

He rolled out of bed, heart racing in his chest, pausing to throw on Slash’s robe as an afterthought. He found Izzy fully dressed, leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs, smoking a cigarette he put out on his guitar case when he saw Axl. He seemed to be waiting.

“Mornin’.” He said, a bit too calm, like he was trying desperately to control his voice.

Axl swallowed, “Don’t go.”

Izzy regarded him coolly, “Angel…”

“Don’t you dare walk through that door, Jeffrey.” He snapped, trying for stern, missing it by a mile when his voice cracked. “Don’t you dare do this to me again.”

 Izzy heaved a sigh, “You knew…”

“Doesn’t mean I have to fucking _accept_ it.” He snapped, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“I can’t stay.” And there it was. They both knew it, but it sure felt different to hear it being said out loud. “I thought I could this time, but…” He trailed off, smiling sadly.

Axl’s mind was reeling, he tried to grasp at something, anything that could change his mind. That’s when it hit him, whatever he overheard them talking about. “I choose _you_.”

Izzy’s smile faltered a bit and Axl knew he had caught him. Panicking, the redhead rushed towards him, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. “I choose you, ok? I said it. Take me with you.”

“Baby,” Izzy’s voice wavered. “You don’t mean that. This band, everything, this is important to you. You won’t leave.” He said, searching Axl’s face, expression one of awe. Because he was serious, he’d drop it all. Band, fame, everything. He’d leave it all behind. _I won’t let you. Not when you’re this happy._

“I choose you,” He insisted, baby-blues filled with tears. “I heard you say—”

“You were listening to that?” Izzy smiled wanly, “Naughty.”

“Only some of it.” He refused to be sidetracked. “Listen, I’ll grab some clothes and—”

“You won’t.”  He said, all quiet and dangerous, words that would totally be included in the warning that should come with him. He backed Axl into the wall, eyes filled with mischief. “Say Angel, how do you feel about one for the road? Just between you and me?”

Axl was trying to tell Izzy that it wouldn’t be one for the road, because he was coming too _damnit_. But Izzy’s lips were on his, body pressed against Axl’s, leather cool against his heated skin. Izzy touched him like he couldn’t get enough of him, like he was memorizing every curve, every scar, every scratch—like he’d never see him again. Axl could feel himself getting choked up, and he tried to tell him to stop, stop looking at him like that, stop touching him like it. Of course, his vocabulary chose that moment to fail him completely, the exact same moment Izzy slipped his hand down to rub at Axl’s sensitive pucker.

“Can I?” He whispered.

“Yeah,” Axl breathed, wrapping a leg around Izzy’s hip. “I’m still—” his breath hitched when Izzy worked two fingers into him. “—from this morning.” And he knew Izzy had heard them, they hadn't bothered to be quiet about it. IT was his way of punishing Izzy, getting back at him for everything and he knew damn well that it worked.

Izzy shuddered, voice roughened- with jealousy or lust, Axl couldn't tell. “You still need…”

“No.” He said sharply. “Make it hurt _.” I want to feel you for long after you’re gone_. And he hated himself for talking like that, for thinking like that, like he wasn’t going too, because he _was_. He chose Izzy. He’d choose him ten times over. He’d choose him if the choice was between his gypsy and his own damn _life_.

Izzy fumbled with his zipper, whispering something Axl couldn’t make out. Probably Romani. Probably curses. Or praises, he didn’t care either way. When Izzy started slipping into him, Axl’s pained whimper stilled him.

Axl growled, “If you don’t get in me right now, Jeffrey—”

Izzy chuckled low in Axl’s ear. “Always so bossy, Angel.” But he complied, shifting Axl so he had both legs wrapped around Izzy’s waist with nowhere to run to, he had to take everything Izzy allowed him to have—and boy did Izzy give him everything.

Axl couldn’t tell how long they were there, it seemed time had slowed, all he knew was that he was moaning loud enough to wake the dead (and probably Slash too). That Izzy was whispering filth in his ear. That he was harder than he’d ever been and his orgasm was probably going to _destroy_ him.

Izzy worshipped him, showering him with kisses and moaning things that caused tears to spill from Axl’s eyes. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying anymore, but he couldn’t stop.

_“You’re perfect, all I could ever ask for.”_

_“You still singing for me? After all these years?”_

_“My Saint.”_

_“My Angel.”_

_“Mine.”_

He lost it then, head knocking against the wall, body bow-string taught, coming so hard he couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was watch Izzy watch him, cheeks tear-stained, suspended in a single moment where he burned, shook and silently fell apart. He felt it, felt Izzy still inside him, tried with all his might to keep his eyes open and fixed on Izzy’s face.

He wanted to remember.

Which was quite silly, since he was going too.

He _was_.

When they pulled apart, Axl’s feet were useless, his voice was useless, hell he couldn’t even think. All he could do was cling to Izzy and sob, little broken sounds. He ached in more ways than one.

“I love you.” Izzy was saying, brows drawn together. And Axl almost laughed at the resemblance to the little boy from a lifetime ago, who had frowned down at him in the field. ‘We match, so now you’re mine.’ “You chose me huh? Go get dressed and packed then.” He smiled slyly, and Axl knew he was playing at something. If only he knew what.

Axl straightened up, wrapping Slash’s robe tighter around him. “ _Stay_. Stay, I’m getting my stuff.”

Izzy smiled that little smile, tilted his head and continued fixing his clothes without a word.

“I mean it.” He said, swallowing hard. “You don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay.” He replied simply. Axl couldn’t tell if he meant that. So without further ado, he ran back into Slash’s room, glancing about for things he wanted to take with him. Nothing really. He didn’t _need_ to pack. He just needed to get dressed.  

He grabbed his jeans from the carpet, scanning the room for his shirt, where was his fucking shirt? And then, he stopped. It was on the bed, tangled in the sheets next to a sleeping Slash.

Slash.

He was on his side, curled around Axl’s pillow, curls fanned out around him. He was almost smiling in his sleep, lips a deep pink, cheeks flushed, skin golden-brown in the sunlight. Axl stopped and breathed, matched his breathing to the rise and fall of Slash’s chest, listened to the sound of the birds singing.

Slowly, he released his death-grip on his jeans, they slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. He wasn’t leaving. He couldn't. This was his everything, everything he wanted as a child. His band, his boys, his home, it was _everything_ to him.

He blinked, staring at nothing for a while, feeling both empty and full, before he left the room to go face Izzy. The hallway was empty, Izzy was long gone. “Son of a bitch.” Axl huffed into the silence, laughing a bit through his tears. There was a note where he had stood, and Axl rolled his eyes as he knelt to retrieve it, cursing his aching body.

_I told you so. ;)_

Axl giggled, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. The arrogant son of a bitch, he _knew_. He sent him to get packed, just so he could see what he would be leaving. Just to show him he could survive here, to remind him of everything he worked for. There was a number scrawled on the back hastily, and Axl smiled.

It looked like he hadn’t _lost_ his gypsy after all.

“I’m not that desperate, Gyp.” He said to no one in particular. “I’m giving you exactly three hours before I call.” And that was totally enough time for him to board a plane or a train or whatever method he was using this time, right?

Axl laughed the entire way to bed.

\-----------------------------------

Slash woke up way later than he had anticipated, because Axl and Izzy managed to tire him out. He rolled over, wondering why Axl wasn’t draped all over him like he usually was.

“Morning.” He glanced up at the sound of Axl’s deep voice and found him leaning by the window.

“Hi.” He replied, and the redhead smiled wanly back at him. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Axl nodded, taking a dainty sip of his coffee. “It’s been a few hours. You sleep like the dead.”

Slash regarded him quietly for a minute, “Why are you here?”

Axl snorted, wrinkling his nose. “I live here.”

“No, I mean…” The brunette raised his hands heavenward, rolling out of bed while Axl laughed his fill. “You look good.” He tacked on, after a while. And he did, obviously he had been crying, but he looked content. He didn’t look lost or broken, in fact, he kinda looked _happy_.

The redhead quirked a brow, “Of course I do.”

“You know what I mean.” They were both quiet at that; Slash met his red-rimmed gaze for as long as he could before looking away. “Why did he go?” It really didn’t matter why, they both knew he would eventually.

Axl beamed at him, though his eyes were filled with tears. He was taking this a lot better than Slash had expected. “He wanted to know what the weather’s like in Greece this time of year.” Axl started laughing and Slash briefly considered he had lost his mind.

“Alrighty then.” He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and saw a text notification from a strange number. “Hey, do you know who…” He begun, and then promptly trailed off.

**No hard feelings. :)**

And finally, everything was starting to make sense. He glanced at Axl, then back at his phone. Their talk that night came to mind:

_“So, if he chose me,” Izzy said, voice solemn. “You could survive? No hard feelings?”_

Axl had chosen Izzy, and that didn’t surprise or hurt Slash as much as he thought it would. Of course he did, if he were in Axl’s shoes, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t do the same. It was different with those two, everything was. But by some miracle, Axl was still here, barefooted and relaxed by his bedroom window, soaking up the sun—and he was certain he had Izzy to thank for that.

He had lost, but he had won.

“Hey Axl,” He said. “I love you. I just… I need you to know.”

The redhead blinked at him, a bit confused, before he was smiling bright enough to rival the sun. “I love you too, you egg.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

\---------------------------------------

He wasn’t going to cry or break, that’s what he told himself. But when the dust finally settled, when Izzy’s manager had called and formally confirmed that Izzy was indeed leaving the band, when he called this Gilby person and hired him—it all sunk in.

Izzy wasn’t here anymore.

And that was how he found himself spending Friday night, talking to Izzy over the phone and crying his eyes out.

“How’s Greece?” He managed to ask through his tears.

“Greek.” Izzy chuckled in his ear. “ _Beautiful_ , you’ll have to come see it with me some time. You’d love it, because you’re a nerd and all.”

“Fuck you.” He replied, sniffling. “I miss you Izzy.”

“I miss you too.” Izzy said so sincerely Axl’s heart ached. “Baby, are you crying?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “The fuck you gonna do about it?” He added, just to be bitchy.

“Tut tut, _language_.” Izzy replied calmly, not rising to the bait. “You know what, when I get home, I’m putting you over my knee.”

Axl giggled through his tears, making noises he was sure would alarm James. “Where’s home exactly? Didn’t you sell the house?”

“Wherever you are.” He said simply. “I’m only here for a few weeks. I’ll be back home soon.”

Axl’s chest tightened. Stupid Isbell men and their charm. He could probably sip tea with Aishe and have a whole conversation about how Isbell men were fucking menaces.

“But then you’ll be gone again.” He whined. “Or I will, on tour.”

“Well. You could always come with me.” Izzy said, sounding faintly amused by Axl’s theatrics. “Or I could tag along.”

“Fuck you.” He deadpanned. “Fuck you very much. I have a band to run.”

“And you’re doing a great job, babe.” Axl could hear the smile in his voice. “Have fun on tour, hey, aren’t you guys coming to my end?”

“Yeah, but that’s months away, that’s so far Izzy!”

“Call me when you do. Goodnight, Angel. Tell Slash to go fuck himself.”

Axl smiled, “I’ll tell him you said hi. Don’t forget to drop me a line.”

\-------------------------------

They were cleared to go on tour and Duff is bouncing around like an excited child—if children were usually over six feet.

“Where are we going first?”

“Warm up shows in New York.” Axl replied, “Then we start the first leg.”

“Aren’t you excited?” He babbled, “Cause I’m excited. Aww Christ, I was just home every day, it almost drove me insane.”

“I’m excited.” Gilby volunteered.

“Shut up, Gilby. No one likes you.” Axl replied tartly. Slash shot him a disapproving glance, though it wavered on the edge of amusement. “What?” And maybe it wasn’t fair to snap at Gilby whenever he got the chance, the poor guy didn’t even know why he was being targeted like this.

Duff rolled his eyes, “Axl, don’t be rude to Gilby just cause he’s not Izzy.” He lowered his voice, smiling sadly. “You’re not the only one who misses the bastard.”

And somehow, Axl had forgotten all about that, about Duff’s own feelings. “I… I’m sorry.” He linked their hands together, “Are you okay? Did he leave you his—”

“—number? Yeah. He dropped by before he took off.” Duff smiled warmly, “I guess Greece is all the rage nowadays.” They shared a look and burst into laughter causing the remaining three to stare in confusion.

“Guess we’ll have to drop by one day.”

“You bet your ass we will.”

And for a while, Axl was sure he was okay. Months went by, they went from city to city, hotel to hotel, creating a buzz across America and even though Gilby wasn’t Izzy, he did his job just fine.

Everything was good, he was at peace.

  _Too_ good.

 So of course when the whole St. Louis thing happened and everything suddenly wasn’t good, Axl wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“What the actual fuck,” Slash breathed, “was that?” They had finally managed to make it out of that shitstorm and back to the hotel in one piece. He was certain they’d be hearing more about _that_ soon.

Axl wasn’t in the mood for lectures. “That’s what happens when your manager hires shitty security.” He screamed the last part loud enough for his manager next door to hear.

“No, Axl, listen to me.” Slash snapped, so unlike himself Axl could only stare in shock. “We were doing fine, we got through the whole show and halfway through the encore before—”

“Yeah,” he interjected. “And he was videoing the _whole_ fucking show, talking shit and pissing me off. He’s not supposed to be recording the fucking show, what part of that did he not understand?” For the whole show, the man was there tossing insults and being a douche. Axl had asked security to do their fucking jobs, and it turned out, they couldn’t manage to do one thing.

“That’s not the point!” He shouted, “We fucking started a riot. People probably got hurt.”

Axl flinched “ _We_ didn’t start a fucking riot. We’re not the one who told them to start ripping the stage to shr—”

Slash massaged his temples.  The high was wearing off, he needed more, more of anything, and fast. He pulled a flask from his jacket’s inner pocket and turned it to his head. “You _dived_ off stage to hit a fan.”

“No fan of mine gets to say shit like that and get away with it.” He maintained, “He deserved it, and if those fuckers hadn’t hauled me off, he would have been eating dirt.” He had barely noticed the man at first, yeah he was saying random shit from beginning to end, but Axl was a pro at ignoring assholes. But, by chance, he had glanced over at the man’s face, and the fucker must have noticed, he took the opportunity to yell things that would have made a sailor blush. But Axl wasn’t bothered, because believe it or not, he had heard worse. Way worse. But what had really triggered it, the rage that rose hot and quick within him, was the man making direct eye-contact with him then mouthing ‘ _Whore’_ , slow enough for Axl to follow.

That had irked him, yes, but he continued performing after a brief moment of hesitation. The man must have picked up his moment of weakness and once he realized, he _refused_ to let it go. Slash was stoned out of his mind and probably not making sense of anything, but Duff had noticed and was glaring at the fucker. When the man had shouted, ‘Whores are allowed to front bands now?’ and a few people around him had snickered; Axl had already dropped his microphone and was nose-diving into the crowd.

“Okay, fucking hell—” Slash sighed. “Fine, you kicked his ass, right. Game over. Please explain to me _why_ you had to throw a tantrum and waltz off the stage after, because I’m a bit foggy on that part.” He was barely listening, he shook the flask, it was empty. Christ, he _needed_ …

“Because I was _pissed_.” He fumed. “You had one job, fucking do it!”

“ _We_ had one job, damnit! Fucking perform.” Slash sniped, stumbling towards Axl, just a little drunker than he’d  originally thought. “But you, _Princess_ , walked off before we finished it.” Slash’s mocking use of his nickname hurt more than anything had. Axl had jumped to his feet and landed a punch before he even registered it, shaking under the weight of his rage.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He barked, “Don’t mock me.” _Not like them. Don’t act like the others._

Slash blinked at him, fingers gently pressed against his jaw. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

_What’s wrong with you?_

So many times he had heard that question tossed at him, all his life people had treated him like he was strange, like he was fucked up somehow. Was he fucked up? He didn’t fucking know.

Izzy hadn’t looked at him any differently, and neither did Slash—until now. Axl sobbed, raw and broken. “There’s nothing fucking _wrong_ with me!” He screamed. “Why can’t you _see_ that? I don’t—I don’t know what’s…” He trailed off, hand clenching and unclenching.

“Baby…” Slash started towards him, the gravity of the situation just setting in. “I didn’t _mean_ it like—”

“Get _out_.” He said coldly. “Get the fuck out, Slash! Get out! Get out!” He continued screaming until the brunette grabbed his coat and left, then he curled into a ball and cried till he had no tears left.

The following morning, Axl had dragged himself over to Duff’s room and soaked his shirt with tears. Duff suggested therapy and Axl promptly suggested he go fuck himself. That was the last Duff ever mentioned doctors to him again.

Axl thought that would be the end of it, that this was where they would part ways. But somehow, they managed to work through it, he showed up a few days later and just pulled Axl into his arms. That was that, they moved on.

They worked through it, show after show, struggling to stay together when this tour threatened to rip them apart. Even Duff’s eyes had lost some of their sparkle, it sometimes felt like they were performing just ‘cause they had to, Axl would be in the middle of a song, look down at the crowd and wonder just what the fuck he was doing here. His mouth was moving, he was going through the motions, but really, why was he here? Why were they here? He loved it, but on some days it felt just like another job, like he was just forcing himself through it to make a living.

\--------------------------------------

_I’m pregnant._

Slash blinked at his phone screen, considering it odd that he had read that line around twenty times and it hadn’t changed. It must be because I’m sleepy. He pulled his hand from beneath Axl’s head, curled around him and settled back into bed for a whole hour.

When he took up his phone a second time, the text remained the same. He was wide awake now and dialing Perla as fast as he could.

“What the hell?”

“Good morning to you too.” She replied sweetly, “And how are you?”

“Perla, don’t bullshit me.” He whispered, glancing at Axl to make sure he was still asleep. “If this is your idea of a prank, it’s not fucking funny.”

“I’m not _pranking_ you. I’m pregnant.” She shot back, sounding way too stressed for Slash’s liking. Because if she was stressed out, that could only mean she was telling the truth. “This would be a stupid prank anyway, the fuck am I gonna do with a kid?”

“How the fuck—” he tugged frantically at a lock of his hair. “Perla this cannot be happening. You said you were on the pill.”

She snorted “I lied.”

“Perla…” he said, head and heart pounding alike. “Why the fuck… would you fucking—Why?” He had never laid hands on a woman, but he had never wanted to slap one more than right now. “You can’t just fucking _do_ that.” He hated that his voice was shaking.

“Fuck, Saul, I know.” She cried, sounding almost as distressed as he was. “But I thought—well I didn’t fucking think—I don’t know what to do. I thought I could take you back from him this way, but now—fuck Slash, I don’t know shit about raising a kid.”

“Wait, am I the dad?”  And he had never really considered that part of it.

“I’m not fucking anyone else, Slash!” She yelled, and he had to hold the phone a ways off to protect his hearing.

“That’d be a first.” He muttered, and yeah, that was a dick move. But he didn’t care at the moment.

“You…” she sighed. “Figure out what the fuck to do, okay. Because I’m not raising this kid alone.”

“So you’re keeping it?” If Ola could hear him now, she would have slapped him in the face. In his defense, he couldn’t think, he felt like he was under water and everything was moving in slow motion.

“Yes I’m fucking keeping my kid, Slash!” She snapped. “So figure something out.” She hung up in his ear.

“You’re talking to Perla?” Axl was awake, and Slash wondered how much he had heard. “What the fuck does she want.”

He stared at the phone in his hand an age before answering, back still turned. “She’s pregnant.”

Axl snorted, stretching languidly. “well congratu-fucking-lations to her. What, she wants you to be the godfather or something?”

“Uhm.”

“Uhm what?”

He steeled himself, blurting “She wants me to be the father.” before he could think the better of it.

There was complete and utter silence, then Axl was laughing like Slash had told him the funniest thing he had ever heard. “Nice.” The redhead hiccuped. “Had no idea you could just _send_ out requests nowadays.”

Slash turned to face him, looking drained. “No Axl, I think… I am the father.” And he still wanted the results to a DNA test, though he had a feeling it was all useless.

Axl blinked at him, laughter still lurking in his eyes. “Slash, that’s _impossible_ , you haven’t seen her since this tour started.”

The guitarist flinched and looked away.

“Slash…” Axl’s voice dropped several octaves. “Slash, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Slash scrubbed a hand over his face, “I saw her, a few weeks ago.”

“And by saw, you mean fucked, right?!” Axl barked, clenching his fist. He was already blaming himself, maybe he shouldn't have been so... him. “Jesus Christ, when?”

“Remember when he had that fight?” He whispered, forcing the words around the lump in his throat. “You lost it and told me to get out and I—fuck— I wasn’t thinking—”

“You fucked her _again_?!” He yelled, chest heaving. “What the hell, Slash? And this time you got her—” His voice gave way. Axl was shaking uncontrollably now, struggling to take everything in. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me?”

Slash blinked in confusion,“What?”

Axl paid him no mind, voice wavering. “Why do I—it’s always fucking _something,_ huh? Fuck, I can’t ever just have any sort of happ—”

“Axl, this isn’t—” The redhead stopped him, eyes squeezed shut. He looked so tired, Slash’s heart ached.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked, sounding small and afraid. “You leaving me?” Why was he even asking? Bitch ex-wife or not, Perla could give him a kid—something he’d never be able to do. Of course he’d leave. _Everyone leaves me in the end._

“I don’t _know_ what the fuck I’m doing now.” Slash replied, “I just don’t fucking know.”

“I fucking _hate_ you.” Axl said, casually. “I wanna kick your ass right now.”

“You should.” Slash rasped, “God knows, you should.”

“Go for a walk, clear your head.” Axl said, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. “Fly a fucking kite if you want, just please, you can’t be here right now.”

Slash nodded, “I’m—”

“Just go.” Axl turned his back, shoulders drooping beneath the weight of his sorrow. “It’s okay.”

He left without another word, knowing that this would be the last time he hurt Axl like this. There was no coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, but did anyone realise I accidentally uploaded the unedited versions of chapter 15 & 16 by accident?   
> Then while reading them I'm wondering why the shit there are instructions in brackets everywhere, then I'm rushing to upload the actual edited one.


	17. Chapter 17

“Ah, Japan.” Duff breathed, looking out their hotel window. “I’ve missed it here.” He was rooming with Axl for some reason, the redhead had insisted someone else share with Slash. Duff had assumed it was just another spat, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

Axl loved Japan, but he didn’t seem all that excited to be here again. Duff couldn’t even get a smile out of him (nor could Izzy during his calls).

“You okay, Ax?” The bassist walked over to where he was sprawled on the bed, covers pulled up to his ears. “You look pale.”

“I _am_ pale.” He muttered, like even that sentence took a large amount of energy from him. “Soulless ginger, remember?”

Duff chuckled. “You know what I mean. You could use some sun.”

“Yeah, the sun doesn’t agree with me.” He answered, “Unlike with Slash—” he broke off abruptly and turned to his side.

The blonde sighed, “Christ on a stick. Are we gonna talk about this or not?”

“Not.” Ok, that was never a good sign.

“Ax.” No reply was forthcoming. Duff shook him gingerly, “Axl? Come on, Red.”

Axl shoved the covers off himself, rolled over and stared Duff straight in the eye. “Perla’s pregnant.”

Duff cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. “What the fuck’s a Perla? Oh wait, the bitch ex-wife?”

The redhead laughed harshly, “Bitch ex-wife, soon to be mother. Of Slash’s child.”

The blond laughed, because he assumed that was what you did in such a situation. “Nice one. We’ve been on this shit tour for like two years, there’s no way—”

“He fucked her while we were touring. Recent, actually.” Axl snapped, lips trembling. “And now she’s fucking pregnant, and he’s gonna leave me.” He punctuated his sentence with a fresh burst of tears, curling in on himself.

It suddenly occurred to Duff that Axl wasn’t one for jokes of this sort. “Woah… Wait I—” For once, he didn’t have any advice to offer. “I… he did fucking what?” He was mad. No, he was fucking pissed. “When did he even get a chance—”

“We got into a shouting match, after that stupid concert in St.Louis. Last month.” Axl whispered, swiping at his tears. “And I hit him, because he was mocking me and he didn’t even know—”

Duff had seen it, had seen what the asshole mouthed to Axl while he was performing, had seen firsthand the exact moment Axl snapped and started yelling for security. It was like watching a car crash, the team was slow to react, some people in the crowd were giggling and Axl just snapped. He should have probably held him back, or tried to stop him, but he couldn’t help feeling a deep sense of satisfaction when Axl’s fist connected with his face. Good. He deserved it.

“Hush.” Duff soothed and crawled into bed with Axl, stricken by a sense of Déjà-vu. “Hush, Ax.”

Axl snuggled up against Duff, sniffling. “He went off for a few days, I had no idea where. And now he tells me she’s fucking pregnant. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” Duff whispered into his hair, “But _him_? I’m gonna kick his ass.”

\-----------------------------------

Slash knew this would be the last time. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew. It had to be. Perla had been calling him non-stop, pleading, screaming, and threatening:

“If you don’t get back to me in a week.” She had said. “I’m going to the fucking press; I know you won’t like this getting messy. What would your mom think? Your family?”

He couldn’t pinpoint _when_ exactly he’d made up his mind, if it was somewhere between the threatening glares from Duff, or the pained glances from Axl—but he did.

He had to leave.

He never planned for a kid, hell, he never planned for any of this, but he’d have to deal with it—whether he liked it or not. And maybe he had turned to drugs in those last days, but who could blame him?—He could. He did. Axl could barely look at him, Duff, well Duff broke his nose, and he took it, because he deserved it.

So during their show at River Plate Stadium, he played like it would be his last time ever (because in a way he knew it would be), didn’t show up drunk off his ass, or tripping on anything, just played, plain and simple, poured his soul into it like he used to in the early days.

Everyone must have noticed it, even Axl, because the redhead pulled him into a hug while they were leaving the stage, whispering _‘I love you’_ in his ear. Slash really fucking hoped Axl would be mad at him, loathe him and tell him just that. Because this just made it harder to leave, this was ripping him apart from the inside.

“You hanging around till we release the last album?” Matt asked, he was the only person that even bothered talking to Slash these days.

“Yeah, for old times’ sake.” He called Perla and told her his decision. He wouldn’t announce it till after the release, he was leaving for good. Guns N’ Roses couldn’t be home anymore. And yeah, he loved the band, and that would hurt—but leaving Axl? His friends? That was far worse.

“Good.” She said tersely before hanging up, and he hurled the phone full-force at the wall.

He hated her, but not more than he hated himself.

\---------------------------------

When Slash announced that he was leaving officially, Axl didn’t bother hanging around to tell him goodbye. He went home, ignored the press and kept his TV and radio off.

He didn’t care about the album sales, or about what the fans thought of it, or about Izzy trying to call him, or Duff, or James, or Amy, or Michelle, (though he noticed that Slash never tried) or fucking anyone. Everything was over, because he knew damn well that Duff was considering leaving too—not for any selfish reasons, but because Steven needed him, and if Steven needed him, he would go and Axl couldn’t hold it against him.

He cut himself off from everyone for weeks, and Slash leaving wasn’t even the only thing ruining him—but everything. Izzy was gone, Slash was gone, Steven was gone, Duff was leaving, his parents were fucking dead (not that that made any difference), just who the fuck do you turn to when you have no one?

Axl turned to pills. He did go to Duff’s stupid doctor, and sit through stupid sessions with her and take the stupid medication she told him to, but he still felt numb. He thought maybe if he took enough, wash it down with a glass of Jack, he wouldn’t feel numb anymore. Better yet, he’d be gone, for _good_ —and you couldn’t feel numb if you weren’t there at all.

\--------------------------------------

He didn’t know how long he was out, but he came to when he realized he was fucking cold. And _wet_. Someone was holding him under water. He spluttered and kicked, flailing limbs connecting with someone _hard_.

“Jesus Christ, you hit like an ex-con.” The person was saying. “Which is _really_ fucking hard, by the way.” The redhead opened his eyes enough to realize he wasn’t under water, he was in his shower.

“I’m fucking cold.” He rasped, teeth clattering, “You couldn’t have drowned me in warm water?” He still couldn’t make out who the fuck the person was, everything was blurry and alien, but he could tell the person didn’t have any ill-will towards him or he would have been dead already.

The man chuckled, “Bossy.”

And suddenly he _knew_. “Izzy? They deport you from Greece?” Axl wanted to cry and scream, because how many times had Izzy saved him? Protected him? Fought off everything who had tried to hurt him—even himself.

The water stopped coming, so he assumed Izzy had turned the shower off. “ _Very_ funny. Come on, strip outta your clothes. I’ll help you.”

“Is this you trying to see me naked?” He joked, though he felt like shit. He couldn’t stop shivering and he could barely coax his limbs to move. He felt heavy, like something was weighing him down, but light at the same time, like he could float away at any second. When was the last time he ate something solid? Or anything at all? How long had he been inside?

“Sure.” Izzy answered easily, “because we haven’t been fucking for around ten years or so.” And sure, Izzy was joking with him, but Axl could sense an underlying current of steel in his light tone. He was _furious_. “I’ve been seeing your bare ass before either of us had hair anywhere.”

Axl coughed, flushing a little “Crude.” He got out of his shirt, but Izzy had to help him out of everything else. “I’m at your mercy.”

“That’s how I like you best.” Izzy’s strong hands were helping him to stand, and his knees buckled on the first try, but after a while, he was carried wet and shivering out of the bathroom. “Where are your towels?”

Axl told him and soon he was being blanketed in warm fluffy fabric. He glanced weakly around the room, wincing when his eyes landed on the empty whiskey bottles and the pills scattered everywhere. Izzy said nothing, instead he dried Axl hair gently, humming a familiar tune under his breath.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, and Axl looked him in the eye for the first time. God, he looked beautiful, he looked _golden_ , hair way longer than it had been a year ago, falling over his shoulders in silky locks. He still had his charms on, and his eyes were still gun-metal gray, and though they were filled with nothing but love for Axl, he could sense the anger lurking there too.

“No.” He shook his head weakly, the room spun with each movement. “I don’t think I can.”

Izzy said nothing for a while, “Can you drink?”

Axl glanced pointedly at the empty bottles around the room, huffing a little laugh. “Yeah, I should think so.”

Izzy didn’t laugh. He disappeared downstairs, reappearing a few minutes with a steaming cup of green tea. Axl wondered briefly just how he managed to get into his house, but brushed the question away. It was Izzy, he could have broken into Fort Knox if he deemed anything in there worth his while. The brunette helped him to sit up, perching at the side of the bed and waiting patiently while he drank as much as he could.

Axl felt oddly at peace, the whole ‘almost dying’ thing aside, here he was completely naked and covered in towels. And there Izzy was, uninvited, fully clothed and filled with well-repressed anger, and still he felt comfortable, safe.

They sat there in silence for about half an hour before Axl spoke, wrapping his hands around the half empty cup to soak up the heat. “How’d you get in?”

“Through the front door.” He replied, pressing his lips into a line the way he did when he was trying not to smile. “What, you think I teleported?”

The front door was locked, he had made sure of it, but locks had never deterred Izzy much.

Axl giggled, actually giggled; it almost scared him, it had been so long since he had anything to laugh about. “How’d you get here so fast?”

Izzy gave him this uneasy look, “Whaddya mean fast? I was almost too late.”

They both were silent then, eyeing each other thoughtfully. “How come you’re here?”

“You needed me.” He said simply, looking away. “You felt… off.”

“And you can feel me, from all the way…”

“Of course.” He shot Axl a weak smile, “I can feel you anywhere. You’re noisy and loud, a blinding golden light that’s always in my head. Annoying little _brat_.” But the blinding golden light had begun to dim with each passing day, and Axl wasn’t answering his calls, and neither was Slash. He had rushed back to LA, confused about just what was happening—until he turned on the TV.

Axl let out a little hiccup of a giggle again, “Yeah, well, you can’t get rid of me though.”

“Then why did you just try to get rid of yourself?” Izzy asked, tone changing so quickly Axl was caught a bit off guard.

He looked down at his cup, he was beginning to feel a bit hungry. “Because… I felt like it would be better this way.”

Izzy reached for his hand, running his thumb gently over Axl’s knuckles. “You can’t keep doing this, Angel.”

“That was supposed to be the last time, man.” The redhead laughed harshly. “That was the plan.”

Izzy didn’t know what to say to that. 

“You hear about the band?” He asked, trying to put on a brave face.

“I’ve heard lots of things.” And there it was again, that fierce anger.

“Yeah well, it’s over.”

“You really think so?” Izzy gave him that loaded little look again. “You’re gonna give up, just like that? That’s not the Billy I know.”

“Billy’s dead,” Axl said softly. “And Axl was supposed to be too.”

“Sorry, kid.” Izzy took the cup from Axl’s grasp and lowered it to the bedside table. “Not on my watch. Come here.” The redhead was planning to crawl over for  a kiss, but once their lips touched, the levee broke. 

He sobbed, breath leaving him in hitching little gasps. “Oh, God Izzy. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll carry on.” Izzy murmured, holding him closer. “We always do. You can do it—you’re _strong_ , the strongest person I’ve ever known.” Axl didn’t understand how he would, but if Izzy said he could, it must be true, Izzy had never lied to him before.

Izzy stayed for longer than Axl expected. They made love (passionate, messy love—it felt like he had forgotten just how good it could be), and when Axl came he was convinced he would float away. He told Izzy as much, but the brunette just snorted and told him was probably just hungry. So he cooked him food, while Axl laughed uncontrollably at his rants (because Izzy was funny, how could he have forgotten that too?), helped him clean up, forced him into clothes and hauled him back to bed.

“I’m gonna go out,” He whispered. “I have some business to do.” And there it was again, that flash of anger in his eyes. “Might take a while.”

“Where ya going?” Axl drawled, yawning loudly.

“To take care of business.” He replied, smiling when Axl rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep, I’ll be back in the morning—or someone will.”

Axl had no idea what that meant, but he was full, warm and feeling loved—perfect conditions for drifting off to sleep.

\----------------------------------------

Slash was sitting around the island in the kitchen doing shots of tequila while Perla made a big fuss over moving in.

“No, don’t drop that!” She screeched. “That’s expensive!”

James was watching over the proceedings with almost palpable disapproval, Slash didn’t dare say anything to him, fearing the brunt of his wrath. Ola was sitting across from him, watching him quietly, not bothering to bitch about his drinking like she usually would.

This was a situation that called for a strong drink. Or two. Or three.

“What exactly happened?” She said after an age. “Where is Axl? I had to hear about this whole wedding thing over the telly?”

“I have no idea where Axl is,” He replied. “He hasn’t said shit to me since that last show, and he hasn’t been answering his phone for weeks. Duff can’t reach him, James can’t reach him, no one can.”

“What _happened_?” She whispered. “What the fuck happened?” That was saying a lot, because Ola never made a habit of swearing. “Saul you won’t talk to me.”

“Shit happened.” He clanked the shot glass rhythmically against the marble. “He screwed up, and then I screwed up _big_ _time_. Perla’s pregnant, and you’re going to be a grandmother.” He raised the glass towards her. “Cheers.”

“What!?” She stopped whispering so suddenly it startled Slash. “The news didn’t say anything about _that_ —”

“Because I didn’t _tell_ them.” He hissed, “Christ, Ma. I just mentioned leaving the band and the engagement.”

Ola was still blinking down at him, completely shocked. “You cheated? On Axl? With her?” It should have probably hurt that she didn’t sound so surprised that he had cheated—she was more pissed that he cheated with _Perla_. “With that little _bitch_ who almost got you killed last time and took off with a good portion of your mone—”

His phone rang and cut her off.

“Hello?” He slurred. “Are you calling for Axl? If so, I can’t find him either.”

“Oh I _found_ him alright.” Izzy said suavely. “Wanna know where?”

“Izzy?” His pulse sky-rocketed. When did he get back? “Is he okay?”

“Mhm.” Izzy laughed, a cruel, chilling sound. “I found him near _death_ , Sugar. Blue and cold, I was convinced I’d lost him.”

Slash stopped breathing, “Oh God, is he—”

“Save your fucking concern.” He spat. “Wanna tell me what happened, Sugar?”

“I—uh—what?” Slash’s head was spinning; he could hardly find his footing. "We broke up and..."

“You _fought_ me for him, bitched at me forever about Axl. Axl this. Axl that.” He said. “You remember what you said to me that night? Remember our little _talk_? You said you _needed_ him, said you’d keep him safe, _right_?”

“Izzy—”

“Shut up.” He snapped. Slash’s mouth closed with a clack. Ola looked concerned now. “You wouldn’t let me take him, because you would treat him better, right? You promised me you’d drop that _bitch,_ that you’d never hurt him again, and I more or less handed him over to you—stupid decision on my part.”

Slash squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to interrupt again.

“And So, he chose me, but you already knew that, right?” Izzy wasn’t shouting, but Slash could tell he wanted to, that he was holding himself back. “And I thought to myself, nah, he should stay. Slash loved him, sounded all sincere when he said he wouldn’t hurt him ever again, I have no right pulling him away from all that, from the love and stability you could offer him—or what you promised me you would.”

“I _do_ love him—”

Izzy ploughed on. “See, now I’m hearing from Duff, that you ran off with Pearls after a fight.” Izzy huffed, “Would you look at that, you’d never let up on me for leaving him, but _you_ took off? Whatever. You run off with Pearls for a few days, but get this—the reason was completely bullshit. Because Duff tells me, some asshole in the crowd triggered him, shouting all sort of obscenities, calling my Angel, a _whore_.”

Slash’s blood ran cold, he didn’t know. He had no idea. “I didn’t kno—” Fuck, he couldn’t remember just _why_ he hadn’t asked. Thinking back now, it had all been so clear, written plainly on Axl’s face. It wasn’t just some asshole talking shit that pissed him off, it was more. He should have seen, his baby was _hurting_ , reminded of a dark past, but he was too busy being high.

“Yeah, so he went off. He’s got problems, you knew that, right?” Izzy hissed. “YOU KNEW WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM! WHAT PEOPLE CALLED HIM BACK THEN!” He was yelling now, voice shaking under the force of his anger. “You knew all the shit he went through, don’t tell me you don’t, because we all sat there while he told us—dug up all the bad shit and laid his cards on the table.”

“Izzy. I swear, I wasn’t myself, I had no idea what the guy sai—”

Izzy ignored him. “Now Axl tells me, you were high. Doped up on smack, right? Remember how you promised me you’d have kicked that little habit? Told me you were off it?  Then you started yelling at him, mocked him, did you? And yeah you fought, couples fight. He screamed at you, you took off. Fine, fair enough. But then, you go out and _FUCK_ _PERLA_?”

Slash never truly realized how much a shit storm everything was till he heard it being recounted to him out loud. “He told me to leave.” No excuse, it was no excuse. He had no idea why he was trying to justify his actions, he had been running high on smack and anger, and he had strayed. He had no one to blame this time, Izzy wasn’t there, Axl wasn’t cheating. This one was on him. “It was an accident, I didn’t think.”

“I know.”

Slash’s brow almost brushed his hairline. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Izzy hummed. “But see, now you’ve left him for _good_. Announced your fucking marriage to god and the entire US of A, right? Now, everything’s falling apart. He’s alone, Duff is leaving, you just got some bitch pregnant, and the band is coming apart at the seams. What does he do? In his mental state?”

Slash squeezed his eyes shut, dragging in a shaky breath. “Is he okay? Please just tell me.”

“When was the last time you talked to him? _I’m_ not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He winced, “I haven’t.”

“I see.” Izzy chuckled. “I see. How’s the _wife_?”

“Izzy…”

“You said you’d take care of him.” He voice cracked. “You looked me right in the eye and _swore_ , Sugar.”

“Izzy, I’m sorry.” He choked out, Ola was mouthing something to him, but he didn’t care. “Tell him I’m sorry. I need to talk to—”

“You’re not.” Izzy whispered. “But yer gonna be.” Then he was gone, and his final words were ringing in Slash’s ears. He couldn’t breathe, if felt like an invisible hand was wrapped around his throat, slowly squeezing the life from him.

“Who was that?” Ola said, shaking his shoulders. “Baby, who’s Izzy?”

She must have thought he’d lost his mind when he began laughing.

\-----------------------------------

Axl blinked awake when he heard someone shuffling around the room. “Izzy?”

“Amy.” She smiled down at him kindly, looking a lot older than when he saw her last. “How ya doing, Ax?”

“Splendid.” He replied sarcastically. “What is the media saying about everything?”

She hesitated. “They’re saying this is the end, of the band. Is it?”

“No.” He answered, voice surprisingly steady. “I did not go through all that shit to just give up now. This band is all I have left.”

Amy looked a bit hurt, “You have me. You have your friends. You have Izzy—” She almost said he had Slash, but caught herself last minute.

Axl must have noticed, because he smiled wanly. “When’s the wedding?”

“Ax—”

“When?” He insisted.

“They’re already married.” She whispered. “You’ve been cut off for a while. They had a private ceremony, real small.”

“How sweet.” He groped around for his phone, snorting at the impressive number of missed calls he had. “And no one knows she’s pregnant?”

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

When he finally hauled himself downstairs, Izzy had already prepared breakfast. “You’re awake?”

“You’re still here?”

“For as long as you need me to be.” He said softly.

They discussed what he would do now that things had gotten this far. Axl honestly didn’t know, he needed time to think about it, somewhere he wouldn’t be bothered.

“Amy, you did pay for the farm right?” He asked around his mouthful of food. Izzy shot him a disapproving glance.

“Yeah, I did.” She answered, “renovated it too, the place was a dump.”

“Good, that’s where I’m going.” Izzy quirked a brow. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Besides I’ll be closer to Aishe, I’ll have someone to complain to about you.”

“I’ll come too.” Amy offered. “Like hell you’re getting that big ol’ house to yourself. We can even buy horses again.” She beamed at him, “this’ll be great.”

“Yeah…” He mused, beginning to see that it would be. He’d be able to make some new memories, some good ones. “You might be right.”

“Since we’re all sharing plans, I’m going to Vegas.” Izzy said, “for the hookers and the gambling.” He was really just going to visit his old man, but, Axl understood nonetheless. “I’ll stay in touch.”

Axl knew that he would. Nowadays, it never felt like he was gone, just like he was on an errand run, soon to return. Like a boomerang you’d throw with all your might and it’d come right back to you. Axl was realizing that Izzy really wasn’t going anywhere.

Later on, he called his manager. The man was furious, rambling on about how long he’d been away, and all the interviews and paper work he needed to sort out.

“Listen, talk to the press.” Axl instructed. “Tell them there’ll be another album coming out.”

“ _What_? There’s no one left. Only Matt and—”

“Fire them.” He snapped. “And when you’re through with all that, fire yourself too. Goodbye. It was a pleasure working with you.”

When all else failed, he would look inward, search himself and find the answers he needed. If that meant going back to Indiana, so be it. Amy convinced him to bring Dr.Sherae along with him, she’d be some kinda live-in therapist. Axl acquiesced, because he was finally realizing that he needed to work on himself. Maybe there was something wrong with him after all, maybe he needed a little help.

He called Duff on the morning he left, assuring him a thousand times over he was fine.

“Oh God, I was so worried about you.” Duff said. “I stopped by your house, but you weren’t there?”

I was half dead.  “Uhm, yeah. I’m fine now.”

“So you’re going back to Indiana? Working on a new album?”

“Sure looks like it.” Axl sighed. “How’s Steven?”

“He’s working through it.” Duff sounded hopeful, “I mean, I think me being here helps. Listen Axl, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay in the ba—”

“I _know_ , babe.” Axl chuckled, “It started out with just you and me, remember? I understand. Give Steven my love, I’ll call you every day.”

“Make sure, because I will fly down there and kick your ass.”

“I believe you.”

“You’re okay though? That fucker Slash,” He growled. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t call you! I told him we could—”

Ah, Slash. That was a different subject altogether. “Yeah. Well, he has his own problems. Amy’s yelling for me, I gotta go. Bye Mike.”

“Bye Axl. I love you, keep safe.”

Somehow, paparazzi still managed to flock to him, even though he had made no mention of his departure. Microphones were being shoved in his face, everyone was screaming at him, wanting to know how he felt about the marriage, about his band falling apart, wanting to know just what he planned to do now. Axl ignored them, squeezing Amy’s hand.

A leather jacket, blue jeans, boots and a plain white tee, blue-green eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Smile strained and coming apart at the seams—that was the way the world saw Axl that day, and that was the last they would see of him for almost fifteen years.

\------------------------------

**Epilogue:**

He found Axl sitting at the piano when he arrived, fingers dancing over the keys, somehow coaxing the old thing to produce the most beautiful sounds. 

He looked good, damn good. His hair had grown out, almost down it his waist. It fell in an intricate braid that he could only assume Amy had done, because Axl didn't possess the patience. He had gained weight, not much, but enough for him to notice. He could see it even though the redhead donned an oversized sweater. Nevertheless, he looked mostly the same, pale and beautiful, just not as fragile.

"Hey." He said, finally making his presence known. The redhead turned to face him, blue-green eyes practically shining when they landed on him. 

"Hey yourself." He turned back to the piano, continuing his melody. "When did you get here?"

"Some time last night." Izzy walked over and planted himself on the bench next to Axl. "You look good."

The redhead snorted, "You can stop trying to flatter me. I know how I look."

"And how do you look?" He asked, because he was curious to hear just what his Angel thought of himself.

"Old." He grumbled, banging on the piano a bit harder, the melody was darker now, sadder. He glanced at Izzy, "You don't have to lie."

And there it was, the fragility that Izzy thought he lacked, lurking in his eyes. "You're just thirty-five." Izzy said softly, "You look like a boy."

Axl laughed, but it wasn't bitter. "Whatever you say, man."

Izzy sighed, "How's therapy?"

"A pain in the ass." He groused, "Working, so I hear."

"That's good." He smiled, "I heard you got the band back together? Why'd you hire a guy called Buckethead?"

The redhead giggled, messing up his song. "Yeah, he looks silly, but he's amazing, believe me."

"I believe you." He said softly. "So When's the album being released?"

Axl stopped playing abruptly, "As soon as everyone stops fucking bugging me about it." He snapped before scrubbing a hand over his face. "God, sorry."

"No it's fine, I know how much of a perfectionist you are." Izzy nudged him gently, "It's ready when you say it's ready."

Axl smirked and lowered his eyes, "I wish they could see that." He knew without asking that Axl was talking about the media, who were jeering him, questioning how real the album was and if they'd be around to hear it.

Izzy shrugged. "Fuck em. Play me something from it."

The redhead elbowed him but began to play anyway. Izzy cocked his head and listened, if he thought the first piece was sad, this was downright depressing.

_No matter how I try_

  
_They say it's all a lie_

  
_So what's the use of my_

  
_Confessions to a crime_

  
_Of passions that won't die_

  
_In my heart_  
  


 

_So if she's somewhere near me_

_I hope to God she hears me_

_There's no one else_

_Could ever make me feel I'm so alive_

_I hoped she'd never leave me_

_Please God you must believe me_

_I've searched the universe_

_And found myself within' her eyes_  
  


 

He couldn't breathe, listening to Axl's voice raw with emotion. The music seemed to pour from his very heart and soul, Izzy's breath caught, because he had never been more beautiful, his Angel, His Saint. Izzy looked away, Axl, was so torn and broken, the very things he had sworn to never let happen to him. Izzy placed a hand over Axl's, stopping him halfway through. "Angel, who... who is this for."

The redhead looked him dead in the eyes, seeming to be emerging from his trance like state. "Both of you." He smiled shyly, "The chorus is mostly you."

The brunette laughed weakly, "Have you? Searched the universe I mean."

Axl's laughter transformed his face, "Something like that." He closed the piano, "I want to apologise to him... for calling him all those things. But that damn book he released, it's full of fucking lies."

"Book?" Izzy quirked a brow.

"I never fucking... things were never like that with us!" He ground his teeth together, "She's pregnant again, ya know?" He laughed bitterly, "At least I know this time it wasn't a mistake."

Izzy shushed him, "Forget it. Let's go upstairs, I wanna see what else you've written for this album."

"I'm glad you're here." He whispered, taking Izzy's hand in his. "You're still a pain in the ass."

"Yeah well, you're stuck with me."

"Will you come back? To the band?" He asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Axl... maybe I'll do a couple of show-" The redhead shrieked with joy,"-but, nothing permanent.

"That's fine. As long as you're here."  Izzy could tell he believed it wholeheartedly and felt a surge of happiness withing him.

"I love you, William."

Axl pulled a face at the use of his full name, but his words did not lack sincerity. "I love you too, Asswipe."

"Now let's go work on an album."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is.  
> It's done.  
> No happy ending, but no one was expecting that... right?  
> If you've read this far, have a cookie and a hug. I apologise for all the angst I've caused (not really), goodbye  
> edit: I'm laughing so hard because when I attempted to reread this, I'm noticing my comments are still in it... so there was creole everywhere. Forgive me.


End file.
